


Taking Over

by WastedOnYou0854



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastedOnYou0854/pseuds/WastedOnYou0854
Summary: Sirius Black is tired of being forced to stay in the hovel his mother's portrait calls a home, of Molly Weasley getting on his nerves, of everyone trying to control him. So when Harry reminds him that he is an adult capable of making his own decisions and unwittingly offers him a way out...Well, what can he do but take it? Takes place in OOTP. Cross-posted at fanfiction.net. NOT bashing. NOT HP/HG.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Hermione Granger, Sirius Black & Kreacher, Sirius Black & Molly Weasley, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you think that Harry's is too calm when talking or thinking about his abuse, I'm just going off of canon, and the abuse is canon too. Take it up with JKR and her portrayal of abuse and it's effects if you want.
> 
> Updates will most likely be rare for the next few weeks or so due to family circumstances, but you can expect me to update more often once school starts again.
> 
> Well, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of child abuse and self-harm.

_'He's not your son,' said Sirius quietly._

_'He's as good as,' said Mrs Weasley fiercely. 'Who else has he got?'_

_'He's got me!'_

_'Yes,' said Mrs Weasley, her lip curling,'the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?'_

_Sirius started to rise from his chair._

_'Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,' said Lupin sharply. 'Sirius, sit_ down.'

Sirius, however, ignored Lupin as he stood up, the top of his head almost touching the low ceiling. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make Molly shiver and sink deeper in her seat.

'Excuse me? I may be a bad person, but _no one_ gets to insult me except myself. Got it?'

Some of the adults raised their eyebrows at this slightly self-deprecating remark. To Harry's left, Hermione whispered, 'That's weird. He never usually responds to her.'

Harry turned his head towards her while keeping an eye on the table, where Mrs Weasley had gone red, her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. Sirius had backed away from the table slightly, but his eyes were still burning with anger and something else that Harry couldn't identify. '"Usually"? You mean, she always says things like that?'

Hermione didn't answer, but the way she cleared her throat told Harry all he needed to know, and he wondered why Mrs Weasley disliked Sirius so much. Meanwhile, Mrs Weasley seemed to have found her voice again.

'Sirius, there are _children_ here. Let's talk after they've all gone to bed—'

'Open your eyes woman, the only child here is you! They're all teenagers, for fuck's sake! Fine, you can continue saying that they're not allowed to be in the Order, yada yada, but a goddamn argument? You've really—'

'Shut up, Sirius!' Mrs Weasley interrupted heatedly. 'See, this is why we don't agree! You seem to think that, just because Harry has gone through a bit more than—'

 _'A bit more?_ So, according to you, battling Voldemort three times and coming out alive before reaching fifteen is nothing? Not to mention all the other shit he's had to endure along the way, _including_ a teacher that can't get over a schoolboy grudge and feels the need to take it out on a teen who had nothing to do with it!'

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable with how much Sirius knew. Who had told him?

'Now, don't bring Severus into this—'

'Why not? He's part of the reason James and Lily d—'

'Sirius, no,' this time it was Lupin who spoke, 'You know Severus apologised for that—'

'As if he meant it,' Sirius muttered under his breath.

'—and, besides, Harry is right here. You really want Harry to know that? You think he'll ever be able to trust Severus after that?'

Harry narrowed his eyes. Sirius was keeping secrets from him? And it had to do with Snape? What had Snape done?

'Harry deserves to know. And, as for trust, you think he trusts that snivelling slimeball as it is?'

'You know what I mean.'

Tonks yawned and whispered audibly, 'Are they gonna be at it for much longer? I want dessert.'

A couple of people snickered. Mrs Weasley, who was in the process of being hugged by Arthur as he whispered calming words into her ear, stood up quickly and hurried to the counter. Sirius sighed and sat back down, letting his head fall into his hand.

'Fine, you win. I won't tell Harry...for now. But I will tell him as soon as he turns sixteen, and none of you can stop me then.'

Mrs Weasley dropped a plate and turned around rapidly.

'Absolutely not! Telling Harry about that would mean telling him about You-Know-What, and no son of mine, biological or not, is finding out about that before finishing school!'

Sirius stood up again, kicked his chair away and slammed a hand down on the table. Everyone shuddered as they felt the magic in the room grow. Harry prayed Sirius had better control than him as he imagined an inflated Mrs Weasley floating out of the moldy old house.

'I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU! He is not your son in any sense! James and Lily wanted _me_ to look after him, _I_ am his legal guardian, not you! Stop acting like you can take my child away just because he spent a few holidays at your house!'

Mrs Weasley went red and took a shaky breath. Harry prepared himself for the explosion and saw the others moving away from the Weasley matriarch cautiously.

But the explosion never came. Mrs Weasley took another breath and said, her voice shaking, 'Well...I can certainly see why you were placed in Azkaban without a trial now.'

The uproar was instantaneous. The teens started yelling at her loudly, and Tonks' hair changed to a dangerously red shade as she attempted to dump cake on her head. It took Lupin making a few bangs with his wand and Arthur pulling his wife out of harm's way for everyone to somewhat calm down. Surprisingly, Sirius hadn't done anything except stare at her murderously. When all eyes turned to him, he let out a single word, 'Why?' and held up a hand to silence everyone.

Seeing that no one was going to attack her, Mrs Weasley took a step forward and started speaking.

'Because you have no control, none at all! You act as if life is simply a game, a test to see who can fire off the most spells, spew the most insults...You're so irresponsible, it makes me wonder how anyone could ever make you a godfather! And then you act so surprised when something doesn't go your way. What you can't seem to understand is that life isn't the game you wish it to be, no one is going to play fair, actions have consequences. And maybe the years you spent in prison were simply a punishment for – for thinking the way you think, and—'

'No, I understand. I know I deserve what happened to me, and more, I don't need you to tell me that. I—'

'Sirius, that's not—'

'I – I think I'll go now, it's getting late...Yeah...Good night, everyone.'

And, with those words, Sirius left the room. A stricken silence descended upon everybody. Harry felt his temper rising and, before he knew it, he had stepped forward.

'None of that rubbish is true! Sirius didn't do anything to deserve what happened to him!'

Harry couldn't believe what he said next.

'And – and he's right. I'm not your son, Mrs Weasley.'

With those words, Harry left the room as well, ignoring Mrs Weasley's gasp and Ron's yell of, 'Hey, that's my mother you're talking to!' instead running up the staircase and past his room. He stopped at the next landing and looked around, realising that he didn't know where Sirius' room was. He decided go up to the third floor and check it. Once Harry got there, it didn't take long for him to find a door that had a nameplate with Sirius' name on it. Harry took a deep breath and knocked. A few minutes passed and Harry knocked again. This time, a very tired looking Sirius opened it. His eyes widened slightly when he saw who it was.

'Harry? What're you doing here?'

'I wanted to t-talk to you.'

Suddenly, Harry didn't feel so confident. What if Sirius didn't want to talk? What if he yelled at him for daring to disturb him? Harry held his breath as he looked up at Sirius, who seemed to be considering something. Finally, Sirius took a deep breath and said, 'Sure, come on in then.'

Sirius' room was very messy. Clothes that looked as though they were from the previous century were strewn across the floor, along with a bunch of books, and a knife was protruding from the nearest wall.

'Excuse the mess, I haven't had the time to clean up properly yet.'

Harry raised an eyebrow at the lie, but let it go. He watched silently as Sirius opened a closet, pulled out a dusty looking chair and thrust it at Harry.

'Here, sit.'

Harry obeyed, but not before subtly testing it's durability, something that didn't go unnoticed by Sirius, who smirked slightly and plopped himself down on his bed.

'Well, what did you want to talk about?'

Harry twiddled his fingers as he tried to think of something to say.

'What Mrs Weasley said – it's not true. You know that, right?'

Sirius didn't answer. Harry shrunk back in his seat slightly and waited for Sirius to kick him out. Sirius noticed that and said, 'Calm down, I'm not gonna kick you out.'

Harry sighed in relief.

'You're running away from the topic at hand though,' he pointed out.

'All right, you caught me.' Sirius' face suddenly became sour. 'I...do know I don't deserve Azkaban – not really, anyway, what I said there was just a ploy to see if I could get her to pity me so she could see sense,' Harry's eyes widened at this blatant manipulation of people's feelings, but he knew it made sense, and so it didn't anger him as much as it should have, 'but I just can't help but think that maybe I _do_ — but not for the – er – reasons that Molly pointed out.'

'No, you don't! Why would you even think that?!'

'Harry, I'm the reason your parents are—'

'Don't even finish that sentence, because it's not true! You didn't – didn't know, you didn't ask – it's not like you wanted them dead!'

Harry was becoming increasingly aware that the same could be said about his encounter with Cedric.

'And yet, that's how they ended up.'

'You—'

'Look, let's not talk about it. They're dead, and that's that, we can't change it. Even though I wish I could... Anyway, what else did you want to talk about?'

It took Harry a few seconds before he found his voice.

'What you said there – about how you consider me your child - did you mean it?'

'Of course I did, you're my godson, aren't you? Unless you don't—'

Sirius didn't get to finish his sentence. Harry had crashed into him with a hug, making both of them fall back onto the bed. He buried his face in Sirius' chest, not caring that his robe was covered in dust and smelled like someone had violently attacked it with perfume the day before. Sirius considered him his child — it meant that Sirius wanted him! No adult had ever told him anything like that before, except Mrs Weasley, but she didn't count after what she said that evening.

The dust finally got to be too much, and Harry emerged, coughing and sneezing, and fell onto the floor. He heard Sirius chuckle from up above and attempted a glare, but it came off as a pout. Harry got up from the floor and sat down on his chair. He felt his face heat up suddenly.

'Don't worry, I was just as embarrassed when I hugged your dad's mum after she let me stay at their house. It's natural.'

'You stayed at my dad's?'

'Yeah, he sort of made me live with him after I ran away. I didn't want to stay for more than two days, but his mum made me my own room, and I couldn't refuse.'

'You ran away from home? Why?'

Sirius' eyes darkened.

'My family — they weren't exactly the nicest bunch out there.'

'Were they Death Eaters?'

'No, but they openly supported Voldemort and his agenda. They changed their mind after little Regulus got killed by Voldemort though.'

'Regulus? Who's that?'

'My little brother. The idiot went on to become a Death Eater at like sixteen. Didn't even do it because he agreed with Voldemort's rubbish, but to "make the family proud". Well, he got cold feet and tried to quit, but the thing is, you don't quit. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Anyway, he went missing. Apparently, Voldemort killed him personally. At least, that's what we heard happened.'

Harry looked down.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.'

Sirius waved a hand.

'It's fine, we weren't that close, doesn't matter.'

He cleared his throat.

'Anyway, you get the picture. I didn't want to end up like him, so I left the summer after my fifth year. I was supposed to become a Death Eater that summer, but I ran away before they could complete the ritual.'

He snorted darkly and added, 'They were afraid of becoming Death Eaters themselves, so they compromised and made us do it. Really _caring_ of them.'

Harry nodded and started fiddling with his sleeve. He wanted to ask Sirius for more information, but would Sirius go against the Order's decisions? Him telling Harry things that were most likely top-secret could be counted as treason, could it not? What would happen to Sirius if he told him everything despite that? Harry didn't want him to get hurt, as absurd as the thought of Dumbledore hurting his followers was.

'What's bothering you?'

'In the kitchen – you said something about Snape. And Mrs Weasley mentioned a You-Know-What. What is it Snape did and how does it relate to this You-Know-What thingy?'

Sirius sighed.

'Look, I'd love to tell you, believe me. But I can't—'

'Because Dumbledore forbade it, I know. Doesn't matter then, don't think about it.'

Harry stood up, feeling his temper flare once again. It was so unfair! Why did Dumbledore have to decide everything? Despite all his titles, he was only Harry's Headmaster, nothing more. What say did he have in where Harry went for the summer or what his best friends could or couldn't put in their letters?

He decided to leave before he took his anger out on Sirius, who had done nothing wrong. His temper, he had learned, was best handled by waiting for it to calm down before he could interact with anyone else.

'I think I'll go now, it's really getting late. Bye.'

'Harry, wait!'

Harry turned around at the threshold and asked with unnecessary coolness in his voice, 'Yes?'

'I really wish I could tell you everything—'

'But Dumbledore told you not to, and you have to do what he says, because he is our God and we must bow down to him, right? Obviously, he knows what's best for you! And _of course_ he has the right to tell people whether or not they should send letters to their friends and how to raise their children!'

Sirius stopped in his tracks. Without waiting for his reaction, Harry exited the room and slammed the door, ignoring the stream of curses that came from behind it. Right now, he really didn't care if Sirius had suddenly had an epiphany, he just wanted to find a place where he could cool off without taking it out on someone. He already felt bad for yelling at Sirius like that, especially since he only realised that maybe Dumbledore was wrong that evening himself.

He decided to go up to the fourth and last floor. There, he found a few doors. What stood out to him was a door that he assumed led to Buckbeak's room, judging by a few feathers littering the floor near it, and a door that had some strange words on it in a language he didn't know. Driven by his curiosity, he decided to check out the strange room first, only to find himself in a huge library. Somehow, it seemed bigger on the inside than the house actually was.

Harry wasn't a big fan of books, but he had nothing else to do, so he walked further into the library and looked around the shelves. Apparently, they were sorted by how Dark the book was: the Lightest and most harmless books were closest to the entrance, while the Darkest ones were furthest. Harry ran a hand along them, checking out the titles. _A Complete History of Black_ , _Your Inheritance and What To Do With It_ and _Toujours Pur: Keeping Your Line Clean_ were some of them. This further reaffirmed Harry's belief that he was inside a typical pureblood house.

He continued looking through the books, hoping that one of them might catch his attention. Finally, he stopped at _Guide To Self Defence For Beginners_. Intrigued, Harry opened it and read through the first page.

> Prologue
> 
> Want to learn to defend yourself? Tired of small fonts and complex instructions that expect you to already know half of the necessary material? Then this book is for you! Learn all you need to know about self-defence with easy step-by-step instructions, complete with pictures and an address where you can owl any questions you may have!The only requirements are a wand and hard work! Good luck!

Harry felt like he had just found a gold mine. He hadn't really thought about putting in extra effort to learn to defend himself properly before, but the existence of the Order and a You-Know-What complicated matters. He knew that the Order most likely only took in wizards who were at least semi-competent and capable of holding their own against most Death Eaters, and he couldn't become that wizard if he didn't start training while he was still in school.

And he did want to join the Order. He wanted to do all in his power to destroy Voldemort, and at the moment, joining a group with the purpose of doing exactly that seemed to be his best bet.

He flipped through a couple of pages and was even more convinced that this book would help him when he saw that its approach to teaching was similar to Lupin's, who was the best teacher he'd ever had.

Harry decided that, before attempting any of the spells in that book, he would read it first. He wasn't allowed to do magic at the moment, anyway. So, he found the nearest sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable, plopped himself down on it and opened the first chapter, which was titled _'The Introduction to Defence'_.

Three hours passed, and Harry was in the middle of the last chapter, which was titled _'Defence In Other Subjects'_. This chapter touched on the ways that other subjects could be used in defence. For example, you could use Transfiguration to conjure a pack of wolves and make them attack your opponent. Harry now felt so stupid for not paying any attention to other subjects and decided that, while focusing on defence, he would also review Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions, starting with first year. Perhaps Hermione would even agree to help him with that. He wasn't going to try to become the top student in those subjects by any means, as he didn't have time for that and that place was forever Hermione's anyway, but it wouldn't do any harm if he raised his marks a little.

Right now, though, he needed to sleep, or the others would be worried. Harry took the book with him, walked back to his room, where Ron was snoring peacefully, and went to sleep.

He never noticed an owl fly into the window above.

...

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was trying very hard not to make eye contact with Sirius — which was proving to be extremely difficult when the man was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and humming some catchy tune from a song Harry didn't remember the name of. Harry, however, hadn't been training with Wood for three years for nothing — if he could survive that, then he most certainly had the strength of will to not—

'Sirius, what's gotten you so happy?'

—do that. Harry slapped himself mentally and shrank back in his chair. Sirius looked up from his bacon and smirked.

'How long have you been holding onto that, my little mini-Padfoot?'

Harry rolled his eyes playfully and said, 'I'm not little. And don't you think I'd be mini-Prongs?'

Sirius faux-pouted.

'Spoilsport. Anyway—'

'—I'm sorry for last night.'

Harry's eyes widened as he realised he and Sirius had spoken the exact same thing at the same time. He had a good idea of how these things usually went, so he decided to see if they'd end up copying each other again.

'Apology accepted.'

'No chance of that,' Sirius remarked, standing up to make himself some coffee, as though he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. 'You're welcome, by the way.'

'Huh? But that's not how you—'

'Not my problem.'

Next to Harry, Ginny snorted into her milk. Looking around, he could see Ron and the twins sniggering. Even Hermione was trying to conceal her giggling.

'Oh, come on, guys! It's not even that funny!'

'Sirius' bad use of English is not. But the fact that you're the only one here who doesn't yet know the news is,' said Lupin as he entered the room.

'Oi! I'll have you know my knowledge of the English language is as impeccable as my luscious black hair!'

The twins shared significant looks and Sirius chucked a piece of toast at them, but missed and hit Lupin, who retaliated by sending a Stinging Hex at his behind. Ignoring Sirius' pained moans, Lupin sat down beside him, or rather, his empty chair, as Sirius was still making himself coffee, and discreetly slipped a pink-looking substance in his plate. Catching Harry's eye, he winked and said loudly, 'Sirius, would you please explain to our little mini-Prongs-Padfoot what has made you so happy?'

'Like I'm not always happy,' Sirius muttered, though he was still smiling. 'You see, Harry, your little anti-Dumbledore rant got me thinking.'

Harry's friends sent him weird looks and he mouthed, _'I'll tell you later,'_ while nodding his head at Sirius.

'Dumbledore says he can't do anything to get me a trial because the Chief Warlock, who is Fudge, won't allow it. But I worked as an Auror before – er – before the war ended, so I know their laws and know that, in the most serious circumstances, the Head of the DMLE can force a trial without waiting for the Chief Warlock's permission. I also know that Amelia Bones, who is the current Head, has always been fair and impartial, which is why if, say, an innocent but convicted murderer wanted to get a trial, she would be his best bet.'

Harry was growing more awed by the minute as he realised what Sirius was leading up to, and a big smile was blossoming on his face.

'Of course, said murderer can't just owl her and ask for a trial, as that would be way too suspicious. What said murderer can do, however, is give her an anonymous tip about the trial – or lack thereof – of Sirius Black, and it will set her off on a quest to check Sirius Black's criminal record. Once she finds the absence of a trial, she will no doubt be enraged at such a lack of justice, even going as far as to owl Sirius Black and invite him to a trial.'

Now openly grinning, Sirius turned around and gave Harry an expectant look. Harry felt his own smile widen.

'Does this mean what I think it means?' he asked.

'Depends on what you think it is,' Sirius answered with a smirk. Harry let out a yell of joy, ran around the table and embraced Sirius, giving up on trying to look cool. His godfather was going to have a trial, which meant that he could finally come live with him once his name was cleared!

Frowning, Harry slipped out of Sirius' arms as he realised something.

'But what – what if your name isn't cleared?'

The smile slid off Sirius' face. Suddenly, Harry could see that Sirius had already thought about this and was worried immensely. Now he felt bad for ruining their moment.

'Well, if they do prove me guilty,' said Sirius hoarsely, 'then I suppose we'll have some sort of contingency plan ready?'

He sent questioning looks at the occupants of the kitchen, Lupin in particular. Lupin nodded and the rest followed.

'We'll help you plan it.'

Some of the creases between Sirius' brows disappeared, though Harry could see that he was still worried. After all, there would be no more sending him back to Azkaban, since there was a Kiss-on-sight order against him. Harry decided to try and ease the tension before the silence in the room became awkward.

'So when's the trial?'

'The next day after yours.'

Harry sobered even more at the reminder of his upcoming hearing.

'Can't we make a plan for my hearing too?'

'Don't worry, Harry,' said Lupin as he approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, 'they'll let you off. You've done nothing wrong, there's no reason for them to convict you of anything.'

'Sirius has done nothing wrong too,' Harry pointed out.

'In any case, you'll have Dumbledore at your defence, he won't let you lose.'

That caught Harry's interest. Dumbledore was going to be there at his trial? It would be his first time seeing the man since Hogwarts, and he was eager to ask some questions. Namely, why he had forbidden his friends from writing anything more than nonsense to him and why he hadn't thought of doing what Sirius just did.

'Will Dumbledore be at your trial too?' he asked Sirius. Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment, before answering, 'Dumbledore doesn't know anything about me having a trial, I haven't written him yet. So, I suppose if he wants to, then yes? Even though what you said yesterday got me thinking, Dumbledore's still the best man for that kind of thing and I know he'll do all he can to help me.'

 _Just like he did all he could when he let you be carted off to Azkaban?_ Harry thought privately, but didn't say anything, as he trusted Sirius' judgement and his godfather seemed to still trust Dumbledore, so it was fine.

So he smiled instead and gestured back to the table, taking his seat across from Sirius. Sirius took a bite of bacon and spit it out immediately, spluttering as tiny pigs began falling out of his mouth. Harry roared in laughter as he watched Sirius tackle Lupin to the ground with a war cry, reminded of the time Ron had accidentally cursed himself to vomit slugs. Beside him, Ron had clearly had the same flashback, as his freckles suddenly seemed to stand out more prominently against his pale face.

'Were you guys like this at Hogwarts too?' asked Hermione interestedly, her lips twitching.

'Oh, yeah, we were,' said Lupin as he got up from the floor and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, looking dishevelled, but otherwise unscathed. 'You should have seen James and Sirius at it, not a day passed in which they weren't pulling jokes on each other. Though they did it to others more, of course.'

'Yeah, especially Moony here,' Sirius added as he belched loudly, a stray pig falling out of his mouth. The whole floor was littered with the small pigs, and Harry thought he saw Fred – oh, how he loved being able to tell them apart – sneaking a few into his pocket.

Lupin snorted and swatted at Sirius, vanishing the cursed bacon swiftly with his other hand before anyone accidentally ate it.

'I gave as good as I got, mind you. Remember that one letter?'

'Ooh, yes, indeed I do.'

Sirius launched into a most exciting retelling of a joke which had involved a cursed letter from Lupin and him turning into a sheep. Harry noticed how Sirius' eyes lit up whenever he talked about his friends and smiled softly, deciding that from now on he would ask Sirius to tell him stories of his parents and their time at Hogwarts as often as possible. He'd seen how moody Sirius was a lot of the time and figured that helping improve his godfather's mood wouldn't hurt, especially since hearing people talk about his parents made him happy too.

So Harry joined the conversation, smiling and laughing as Sirius and Lupin went on to entertain them with tales of their days at Hogwarts — until Mrs Weasley walked in, that was. She let out a disappointed huff and said, 'Sirius, stop, you're giving them bad ideas.'

Sirius ignored her and continued to talk, a rather wide smirk coming on his face. Harry thought it was a little unfair how she'd completely ignored the fact that Lupin was doing exactly the same thing, almost like she had a personal vendetta against Sirius. Well, after what she'd said yesterday, it wasn't that surprising. Harry was still peeved at the woman for her words, but reasoned that she'd probably just misunderstood the situation and said that to hurt Sirius, not because she thought it was true. Still, Hermione had said that she'd been antagonizing Sirius for weeks now...

'Sirius!'

Sirius continued to ignore Mrs Weasley, which seemed to only rile her up more, especially when the the twins and Ginny sniggered and sent amused looks her way. It seemed that even her own children still hadn't forgiven her.

'Sirius Black!'

Seeing that he wouldn't answer to her, she apparently decided to change tactics. This was quickly turning into a war, and Harry was a lot more inclined to side with Sirius if it came to that. Mrs Weasley walked over to them and started pulling Ginny out of her seat, turning onto Ron when Ginny didn't budge.

'Come on, children, we've got a lot of work to do today. We'll start with the drawing room and then work on the far bathroom...Well, what are you all waiting for? I see you've had breakfast—' Mrs Weasley scowled, clearly not appreciating someone else cooking for her children, especially when that "someone" happened to be Sirius, '—so get moving, up you go!'

'Stop manhandling them, Molly,' said Sirius, obviously finding the whole thing funny. Harry was impressed by how his godfather managed to construct just the right "I-don't-care" attitude that got onto people's nerves. If only he was as good at hiding his emotions...Though he did have an "I'm-fine" mask, it still wasn't enough to conceal his anger and stop him from doing rash and reckless things — the sort of things that had made his life in Privet Drive unbearable.

Mrs Weasley bristled.

'Who are you to tell me how to discipline my children?'

'Who are you to tell me how to discipline mine?' Sirius countered, and Harry felt a surge of affection for his godfather. He still couldn't fully come to terms with the fact that Sirius actually considered him his child, but it made him infinitely happy, especially after what he'd gone through at the Dursleys'.

Mrs Weasley didn't answer, but continued to pull at her children, who all muttered protests. Finally, Ginny broke, stood up and yelled, 'Mum, I don't want to! Why do we even have to clean anyway? It's not like Sirius asked us to!'

'Yes, but you're staying at his house and should earn your keep! Besides, it keeps you busy, doesn't it?'

Harry flinched slightly at the "earn your keep" comment, something that was not missed by Lupin, who nudged Sirius and sent him a look. He hoped it didn't mean anything — they couldn't find out about his home life, or they'd laugh condescendingly and tell him that he was only making it up or that he was nothing but a weak whiny child. That was what all the other adults in his life had done, after all, even Mrs Taylor, who had been one of his favourite teachers in primary school.

'So you'd make your children do more chores than a house-elf just to keep them busy?'

'Well, they certainly do more than that house-elf of yours, that's for sure,' Mrs Weasley muttered, leaving Harry to wonder what house-elf she was talking about. She didn't say anything else, though, and gestured at her children to go upstairs.

'Well, actually, our dear mother—'

'We're legally adults—'

'So we don't have to do what you say any longer,' the twins finished together. Harry had no doubt that if a war did start, the twins would be on Sirius' side as well, if only to defy their mother. _Funny, how I'm thinking of a war going on in our household when there's a real one outside._

Mrs Weasley glared at Sirius and said, 'Well, thank you, Sirius. Ron, Ginny, let's go.'

Ginny looked like she wanted to argue, but followed her mother quietly with Ron, who sent an apologetic glance at Harry, his ears red. Harry looked down, feeling a bit guilty with how they'd dismissed the woman like that. To his right, Hermione was clearly feeling the same and in half a mind to follow them. Still, they continued their previous conversation, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was up with the way Lupin and Sirius glanced at each other and then at Harry occasionally. Were they onto something?

Their conversation lasted until noon, by which time Sirius and Lupin's throats were sore, the twins were itching to try out some of the tricks they'd heard about and Hermione looked like she was torn between congratulating them at such creative use of magic and disapproving because they'd broken so many rules. Harry, for his part, felt that this was the best conversation he'd had in a long time. He may not have his parents, but boy, was he lucky to have Sirius and Lupin.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence eventually, sipping on Butterbeers that Sirius had summoned out of one of the top cupboards, but it was soon broken by the twins.

'So, we noticed you call each other certain nicknames a lot—'

'Moony and Padfoot, to be exact—'

'And we wanted to ask if you, by any chance, might know who the Marauders are.'

The grins on the twins' faces matched those of Sirius and Lupin as they realised how Fred and George must have heard of them. Harry shared a look with Hermione. They both knew how much Fred and George idolised the Marauders, so meeting two of their idols would no doubt have them positively ecstatic. He wondered what their reactions would be when they found out who Wormtail was.

Sirius smirked.

'Oh, yes, we do know them. In fact, I know Padfoot better than I know myself.'

The twins' grins widened.

'You mean to say that one of the best masters of mischief Hogwarts has ever seen is a convicted murderer—'

Sirius nodded gleefully.

'And the other is a werewolf—'

Lupin smiled smugly.

'Who are the other two?'

That sobered the two adults slightly.

'One is James Potter, Harry's dad,' Lupin began.

'And the other is a lying traitorous backstabbing rat,' Sirius finished bitterly, his eyes gaining a dark and positively murderous glint to them, not unlike how they'd looked on that day in the Shrieking Shack.

Shock dawned on the twins' faces as they realised who Sirius was talking about and George asked, disgust clear in his voice, 'How on earth did Pettigrew become a Marauder?'

'That bitch's not worthy of the title!'

'And to think we've been idolizing him for years!'

'Well, we wouldn't have befriended him if we had known,' Lupin said regretfully.

Silence descended upon them all again, Fred and George still staring at the two Marauders with somewhat awed looks on their faces, until Harry remembered what he'd decided on yesterday.

'Hey, Hermione?'

'Harry?'

Hermione swept a strand of hair out of her eyes and turned to stare at Harry questioningly. Harry groaned internally when he realised that asking Hermione to help him study would mean having to follow a schedule for the rest of the summer.

'I was thinking and I realised that I can't possibly fight Voldemort if I'm an ordinary student. I need to learn all I can to defeat him and I thought that maybe I should start with the Hogwarts curriculum, so I wanted to ask if you'd like to help me study?'

Hermione's eyes lit up at the word "study". Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Sirius and Lupin gazing at him quizzically. They were probably wondering where his newfound ambition had come from. Well, he'd tell them. Maybe they could even help him.

'Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you're finally taking this seriously – of course I'll help you – when can we begin?' Hermione gushed, and was about to continue when they heard a scream coming from upstairs. Sirius, Lupin and the twins sprung up immediately, and Harry followed, dragging Hermione along with him. They soon determined that it came from the drawing room and ran inside to find Mrs Weasley sobbing and clutching a body that was lying on the floor. Harry realised who it was and his insides went cold. Ron couldn't die, it simply couldn't be—

But it _couldn't be_. Ron was standing right there, an ashen look on his face as he stared down at his own dead body. But then who..?

Sirius rushed past him and started pulling Mrs Weasley away from the body as he explained, 'That's a boggart, I think. I was meaning to get Mad-Eye to check it out, but — guess it's not needed anymore. Not surprising, really, considering the state of this hovel. Merlin, I really need new house-elves—'

Harry stood there, frozen, as Sirius continued pulling at Mrs Weasley, who screamed and clung to the body.

'Molly, it's not real, it's a boggart!'

'Let – _go_ – of me, you heathen!'

Sirius threw up his hands in exasperation and levitated Mrs Weasley away, stepping in front of her to deal with it himself.

'My mother used to call me that, you know, so you're not—'

He trailed off as the boggart transformed into Harry's bloodied up and bruised body. Seeing his own dead body was even more disconcerting that seeing his best friend's, but Harry was more concerned about Sirius, who had gone white and was slowly backing away. Behind him, Mrs Weasley let out a whimper and more tears dribbled down her chin.

'Er, Sirius?' Harry touched his godfather's shoulder awkwardly. 'Please tell me you're not going to sob over my dead body, too.'

That seemed to shake Sirius out of his stupor and he laughed shakily. The boggart immediately disappeared with a pop. Sirius ran a hand through his hair and shook his head rather like a dog.

'I'm not saying I believed that or anything, but...Merlin, that looked so real.'

Harry didn't answer. He was quite shaken too, but it was more because of the fact that his death was apparently Sirius' worst fear. He'd expected it to be dementors or being caught by Aurors.

Despite the sensitivity of the moment, Harry decided to use it to his advantage, ignoring that it made him sound like a Slytherin.

'Well, to make sure that – er – _that_ doesn't happen and I don't turn into _that_ , I have to know all I can to defeat Voldemort...So maybe you could tell me what this You-Know-What is?'

Sirius looked down at him slowly, and Harry was afraid that he'd get yelled at for being insensitive, but a moment later his godfather let out a bark like laugh and said, 'You hear that, Moony? He's learning!'

Lupin pocketed his wand and nodded with a smile while sending a discreet glance at Mrs Weasley. Harry understood immediately and lowered his voice, 'She has no say in this, remember?'

'Yes, but I'm worried that she'll harp on about it until I evict her from this household,' Sirius answered, sending an annoyed glance at the woman in question, who apparently still hadn't recovered from the shock and was now being comforted by her children, Fred and George acting serious for once.

'Well, then just don't tell her?'

Harry was desperate. Sirius clearly wanted to tell him, and no one was going to ruin it, not even Mrs Weasley.

A devious smirk appeared on Sirius' lips.

'We'll go tell you, then—'

'But—' Harry and Hermione protested together, neither wanting Harry to leave his best friends in the dark.

'—and, if you wish your friends to know, you can tell them later.'

Harry calmed down considerably and followed the two adults into an unused bedroom after sending a reassuring glance at Hermione, letting her know that he would tell her and Ron everything. Harry sat down uncertainly on the bed, making dust puff up around him. The way Sirius and Lupin's faces had turned serious as soon as they entered was slightly unnerving, but he relaxed considerably when Sirius sat down beside him and slapped his back as if to say, 'It will be alright.'

'So? What is it?'

'Wait a minute,' Lupin waved his wand at the door and drew up a chair to sit across from them. At Harry's questioning gaze, he elaborated, 'Privacy charms. So no one hears us.'

'Oh,' Harry nodded dumbly. It made sense. 'So? What is it?'

Sirius took a deep breath, making Harry's previous relaxation disappear. He was starting to wonder if he was better off not knowing, with the way all the adults talked about it as if it was some knowledge that was going to doom them all.

'Basically, right after you were born, a prophecy was made. It said that a boy born at the end of July to parents who defied Voldemort three times would be the one who can defeat him, that Voldemort would mark him as his equal, but he'd have a power he knows not, and that "either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives".'

Sirius stopped, waiting for Harry to digest what he'd told him so far. Harry didn't like where this was going so far. He had an inkling of whom said prophecy was referring to, and it was not at all comforting. But then again, even knowing that Voldemort was out to get him because of a prophecy wouldn't change the fact that he was out to get him and wouldn't stop until one of them died. So it really wasn't all that surprising.

'Right, well, the prophecy was made to Dumbledore, but Voldemort's spy heard the first half and told him. There were two boys who fit the prophecy's criteria — you and Neville Longbottom.'

That elicited a shocked gasp from Harry. Neville could have been the Boy-Who-Lived? As much as Harry liked Neville, he really couldn't imagine the shy boy defeating Voldemort...Still, he wondered what his life would have been like if it was Neville. Would his parents have been alive? Or would they have simply swapped lives, Neville's parents being dead and his locked away at Saint Mungo's? There were so many possibilities, so many "what-if"s...

'Don't dwell on what could have been, Harry,' said Lupin, as though he knew what Harry was thinking. 'Focus on the present.'

Harry nodded numbly. Realising that Sirius was expecting some sort of verbal confirmation from him, he said, 'Continue.'

'Voldemort chose to go after you, so James and Lily went into hiding. Then, um, it happened and you were left with this.'

Sirius touched Harry's scar.

'Dumbledore thinks that this is how he marked you as his equal, by giving you this scar and some of his powers. Granted, Dumbledore also thinks that your power is _love_ ,' Sirius snorted derisively, 'so I don't know how true that is. It could be just that he marked you the moment he chose to go after you.'

'My mum's love kept me alive, though,' Harry pointed out, 'and Voldemort hadn't thought of that, so maybe that could be the power.'

'Let's not worry about what the prophecy means,' Lupin interrupted. 'Dumbledore also said that prophecies don't always come to pass, it doesn't define your whole life.'

'Yes, but Voldemort's heard it so he's going to keep chasing after Harry until one of them dies,' Sirius snapped. Harry got the feeling that his godfather was more worried about the whole thing than he let on.

'Well, then we just have to make sure that it's Voldemort and not me. Will you guys help me train?'

Lupin and Sirius both stared at Harry.

'What?'

He shifted uncomfortably.

'So you're not at all worried?' asked Sirius, concern lacing his voice.

'I am, but it's not like this changes anything. He's hell-bent on killing me, knowing why won't change that. And even if it wasn't for the prophecy, I defeated him as a baby. He's going to want revenge.'

'True,' said Lupin, nodding along with Sirius. 'There's one more thing you need to know, though.'

'What?'

'Voldemort's found out that there's a second half and now he's trying to get to the prophecy to hear it.'

Now that was news to Harry. So that was what the "guard duty" he'd heard them talk about was about? They were guarding the prophecy. Harry didn't know how a prophecy could be guarded, but perhaps there was a recording of it somewhere that Voldemort was trying to get to.'

'But, since we all know both halves, why not just destroy it?'

'Well, you know what Dumbledore's standing with the ministry is right now, right?'

'The whole "liar" thing? Yes.'

'Well, that's the reason we can't. Any other day, Dumbledore might have been allowed to just stride into the Department of Mysteries, which is where the prophecy is, and destroy it, but not now. So, we're reduced to simply guarding it and hoping that Voldemort doesn't get it.'

It was clear by Sirius' voice that he wasn't happy with the current arrangement, and Harry had to wonder how many other actions of the Order he disagreed with. It sounded like Sirius had only joined to feel useful. It wasn't like he had any part in their plans anyway, with his current predicament. Well, with luck, that would all change soon.

'Is there anything else you need to know?'

'Why did Voldemort choose me?'

That was the only thing that was really troubling him. By no means would he wish his fate on Neville, or on anyone else really, but he still needed to know what it was that made Voldemort decide to ruin his life instead of Neville's.

Sirius seemed to hesitate before answering.

'Dumbledore thinks that it's because you're a half-blood just like him, so closer to being his "equal".'

Harry knew that something was being left unsaid.

'And what do you think?'

Lupin shot a glance at Sirius and took over.

'You see, Harry, while Frank and Alice were both very good fighters, James and Lily were some of the most powerful fighters there were. Plus, James' father, Fleamont, worked against Voldemort before he died and was quite a formidable wizard, too. The Potter family as a whole openly opposed Voldemort — unlike the Longbottoms, who preferred to work on the plans and such. James and Lily probably took down more Death Eaters than anyone else in the Order. So for Voldemort, going after you would be killing two birds with one stone, since he was planning to kill your parents as well.'

'But then why would Voldemort tell my mom to step aside?'

'What do you mean? How would you know that?'

'He hears James and Lily's last words when the dementors get close,' Lupin answered softly. Sirius froze. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked hoarsely, 'What did they say?'

Seeing Harry hesitate, he backtracked immediately, 'It's fine if you don't want to tell me – it must be a sensitive subject for you – oh, Merlin, what am I saying—'

'It's fine, Sirius. I'll tell you.'

Harry braced himself and recited his parents' last moments. The fact that the only time he could remember being with his parents was seconds before their deaths hurt, but offered a strange comfort at the same time, knowing that they'd loved him enough to die for him.

'My dad yelled, 'Lily, take Harry and go! Run! I'll hold him off!', then a lot of shuffling noises, then Voldemort burst in and told my mother to stand aside. She refused and asked him to spare me. He continued arguing with with her, telling her to give me up, but she didn't budge. She asked him to have mercy on me, to kill her instead. So he killed her and then turned his wand on me, then a load of green light, high-pitched laughter and that's it.'

Sirius' eyes were overly bright. Harry looked away, giving his godfather a moment of privacy while making it seem like he was too upset to look at them. And he was upset, but he hadn't known his parents nearly well enough to miss them specifically. He missed his parents, not James and Lily Potter, even though, from what he'd been told, they'd been amazing people.

'Harry...I'm sorry. It must be horrible.'

Sirius didn't say anything else, but Harry understood him anyway. He shrugged.

'It's not that bad. I mean, it's not like I knew them personally and it happened ages ago...Must be worse for you.'

Sirius opened his mouth, but Lupin, who wasn't looking all that comfortable either, cut in, 'Let's not argue over who's got it worse. Anyway, that does change a lot, Harry.'

'So why'd you think he did it then?'

Lupin looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully.

'Well, he didn't offer your father the same option, and I really think he'd rather keep the pure-blood alive than the muggle-born, so it could be that someone asked him to spare Lily. Sirius, you remember that friendship Severus had with Lily?'

That was news to Harry. Snape and his mum had been friends? He suddenly remembered his aunt telling them where she'd heard about dementors from and wondered if by "that boy" she'd meant Snape. From the way she talked, it sounded like she hadn't approved of their friendship. But then, his aunt didn't approve of anything related to his mum and magic.

'I do, but what – wait a minute. You think it was him? Oh, please,' said Sirius with a snort, 'Snivelly was too devoted to his Dark Lord. Besides, didn't they have a fight in fifth year?'

'They did, but still, maybe he never got over her. You remember how in love with her he was.'

Snape had _loved_ his mum? Now that was just gross. Harry imagined himself with Snape's greasy hair and shuddered. "Harry Snape" wasn't a name that rolled off the tongue either. To his left, he saw Sirius looking similarly revolted and wondered how he and Remus had even found out. Snape really didn't seem like the type to talk about his feelings openly with anyone, much less his school rivals.

He decided to just listen for now and see how much more he could get out of them. That way of getting information had certainly worked well at the Dursleys'.

'Still doesn't change anything. Why else would he tell Voldemort the prophecy?'

'WHAT?!'

Harry was barely aware that he'd jumped to his feet as he stared at Sirius incredulously.

'You mean that – that greasy haired old _shit_ is the reason my parents are dead?! And he's still a teacher?! How the fuck does Dumbledore still trust him?!'

He felt rage boiling up inside of him and for a moment he wanted to murder Snape just as much as he wanted to murder Wormtail. Perhaps his offence wasn't as great as Wormtail's, but he'd still played a part in his parents' deaths, and Harry had no doubt that Snape had done it on purpose; Snape loathed his dad, after all, Harry wouldn't put it past him to murder him in any way possible.

'Exactly my point! I really don't know what everyone sees in the git, he murdered James and Lily! If I had my way—'

'Calm down!' Lupin said loudly and Harry, who had opened his mouth furiously to continue ranting, closed it, but didn't sit back down. 'Sirius, Severus didn't mean to—'

'Yes, he bloody well did, Remus, you know that as well as I do! He hates James with a passion—'

'And you know as well as I do that he loves Lily! Do you really think he would have let her die?'

'Well, maybe not her, but he was all for letting James and Harry die! And don't you think his obsession with a dead woman is a little unsettling?'

'Just like your obsession with James?'

Sirius closed his mouth and glared at Lupin.

'You know that's different.'

'Different how, Sirius? You lost a friend, he lost a friend too.'

'I'm not _oh so in love_ with him, though, am I? Stop comparing me to that git.'

Harry's resolve was wavering, though. Snape may have told Voldemort the prophecy, but if what Lupin had said was true, then he'd made a mistake — just like Sirius had made a mistake by suggesting Wormtail. Everyone made mistakes. Still, Harry wasn't willing to just let it go like that. He'd have to confront Snape later, as daunting as the thought was.

'Not until you see sense. You remember how Snape had apologised for setting Voldemort on James and Lily at that Order meeting. You think it was fake?'

'I—'

'Sirius,' Harry interrupted quietly, gaining Sirius' attention. 'you should give him a chance.'

'What? But how can you say that, Harry, knowing what he's done?'

'I'm not telling you to forgive him and be besties. Just give him a chance. He may have made a mistake, we all do. If I were to blame him for their deaths, then by that logic, I could also blame you.'

Sirius looked like he wanted to say something, but held himself back. Harry wondered if he was going to bring up the fact that he blamed himself again, which led to him wondering how hard he'd have to hit Sirius to beat it out of him. He winced at the phrase, being reminded of how his uncle also liked to "beat it out" of people. Namely, him.

'How about I confront him when I get to Hogwarts, and we'll see then?'

'Harry, I don't think that's a good idea—'

'Professor, please. What can go wrong? And it'll help me come to terms with everything.'

With a sigh, Lupin relented, 'Fine. And cut it out with the Professor business, I'm Remus to you, Harry.'

'Okay then...Remus,' Harry answered, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. Remus smiled warmly and added with a mischievous smirk, 'Or you could call me Uncle Moony, like your father tried to make you do when you were a baby.'

They all laughed, both Harry and Sirius feeling much calmer now, the prophecy all but forgotten.

'So, is there anything else you need to know in regards to what we've told you?'

Well, not quite. Harry thought for a moment and asked, 'Why did Dumbledore keep it from me for so long? And if he thinks that Voldemort won't rest until one of us is dead, then why didn't he give me any training?'

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances before Remus answered, 'He – er – thinks that you deserve to have a normal childhood.'

Fury blossomed in Harry's chest anew, and before he could stop himself, he bit out, 'He thinks that I had a normal childhood? That I ever even had a childhood? Oh yeah, with my parents dead and my relatives abusing me, not to mention the shitload of stuff I've had to go through at his school, very fucking normal childhood!'

'Harry...They abuse you?'

Harry realised what he'd done and cursed in his head. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut when he was angry? Not bearing to look at Sirius and Remus' faces, he turned on his heel and fled the room like the true and proud Gryffindor that he was.

He found himself face to face with Ron and Hermione frowning at him worriedly. He ignored their questioning looks and pushed past them, heading for the library, resolving himself to another night spent studying. He certainly wasn't going to come out until at least tomorrow, despite not having even had lunch yet. He was used to hunger and being locked up in one place, though, so he could handle it.

He was in the middle of a particularly difficult chapter of a guide to Potions that proved to be only slightly harder than the guide to defence that he'd found when he felt a weight settle in on the arm of his armchair. Harry looked up to see that it was Hermione, holding a plate of sandwiches as she read interestedly over his shoulder. She felt his gaze on her and blushed.

'I brought you lunch,' she said simply. Harry took the plate from her and bit into a sandwich gratefully. This was precisely why he loved his bushy-haired bookish best friend. Unlike him and Ron, her emotional tact was on point, and she seemed to always know what to say and do.

'It was bad, wasn't it?'

Harry swallowed the contents of his mouth and paused as he pondered how to answer her. Eventually, he said, 'Well, I wouldn't call it bad, more like...unsettling. I mean, I'd known what it meant even before knowing it existed, if that makes sense.'

It did to Hermione, apparently, as she nodded while biting her lip calculatingly. Knowing his best friend, Harry wouldn't be surprised if she figured out that it was a prophecy within the next twenty-four hours.

'So then why did you run away like that?'

And there it was — the inevitable inquiry.

'Because I accidentally told them something that I shouldn't have?'

His explanation came out as more of a question, as he wasn't sure if Hermione was going to accept it. Hermione apparently did, as she asked, 'It was about your relatives, wasn't it?'

Whatever Harry had been expecting, it wasn't that. In his shock, all he managed to do was blurt out, 'How did you know?' without bothering to clarify if he was asking her how she knew that it was about his relatives or what they had done to him.

Hermione answered both questions anyway, saying, 'You always make up excuses or change the subject when they come up. And Ron told me that when they went to rescue you in the summer of 1992, there were bars on your window, a cat flap and multiple locks on your door and a belt and a paper with "Harry's room" written on it in the cupboard under the stairs. Normal relatives, even the most strict ones, don't do that, Harry.'

Harry was unable to do much more than nod numbly and wish that he could sink through the floor and disappear. The sandwich he was holding crumbled to the floor, his hand going slack as he sat there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

'Why didn't you tell anyone? If you'd have told a teacher, they would have called a social worker to check on your house. You'd have been out of there in no time.'

As always with Hermione, there was no use in staying quiet or lying, as she would see through it all anyway, so Harry answered, while playing with his sleeves, 'I did. Didn't work, the Dursleys lied to the worker and made me out to be a lying ungrateful brat. The teacher didn't like me much after that either. And it only made them more angry with me.'

The implications behind his last sentence were left unsaid, though Hermione had undoubtedly figured it out, judging by the way her eyes filled with tears – and _pity_. Or compassion, more accurately, though he wasn't really sure of the difference between the two. That was new. Harry wasn't yet sure if it was a good thing, but it sure as hell was an improvement from the others' reactions. He smiled slightly and said, 'I'm so glad to have you, Hermione.'

Her features softened.

'I'm glad to have you, too, Harry. But where did that come from?'

'You're the first person not to laugh at me and call me weak or a liar,' he clarified. Hermione's eyes widened.

'But...Did Sirius and Professor Lupin...?'

'I didn't see them, but I'm sure they did,' he muttered bitterly. 'Everyone I've ever told has laughed and called me weak or a lying schizophrenic.'

Hermione's brows moved into a scowl and her eyes gained a dangerous glint. Harry didn't know if she was angry at him or not. He hoped it was the latter. Unlike with pity, anger was definitely a negative reaction in his book.

'And how many people have you told, may I ask?'

He struggled to remember everyone he'd told the truth, or at least part of it.

'Someone whom I considered a friend in primary, that teacher and a neighbour. Ron knows some parts of their treatment of me too, but he probably thinks it's just a Muggle thing, as do his brothers. They haven't said anything, anyway.'

'Well, get it into your thick head then, Harry Potter, that those people were idiots and don't deserve to even say your name. _Got it?'_

So, she wasn't angry at him then, but rather on his behalf. A warm feeling blossomed in Harry's chest and, were he a bit more...sensitive, he might have cried in happiness. But alas, Harry was a fifteen year old boy and couldn't remember the last time he'd so much as let a tear out, so he simply moved over and patted the seat next to him, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders when she sat down.

'Thanks, Hermione. You're the best friend ever.'

'You too, Harry. Now, what were you reading before I came in?'

Harry laughed and passed his book to Hermione as he picked up the remains of his sandwich and threw them into the nearest bucket that looked like a centuries-old trash can.

'Wow, Harry, this is actually pretty good,' said Hermione, looking impressed. 'Where did you get this? I've been looking through the library in my spare time, but all I've found so far are books on being a "proper" pure-blood, and frankly, some of the prejudices I've seen are disgusting.'

'I found it in the back, not too far from the sitting area. Haven't you looked there?'

'No, I wanted to tackle it from the beginning.'

Knowing Hermione, "tackle" meant that she was reading every single book there was. Harry shook his head fondly. He just hoped that she didn't come across any cursed books, because he really wouldn't put it past a family of people like the Walburga Black he'd seen (and heard, unfortunately) to have curses on every possible thing. A thought occurred to him and he groaned.

'Do I have to leave this place then? You know, to see how Sirius and Remus really react.'

'It's your choice,' Hermione shrugged, 'But I'd go if I were you. If they don't think you're lying, then they're probably worried sick right now.'

Harry nodded. It made sense. He now felt bad for worrying them. It seemed that, no matter what he did, someone always ended up upset. Why was he like this?

'And if they do,' Hermione added, slipping into an angry scowl again, 'then I'll have more time to prepare to hex them to oblivion and back.'

'You know we're not allowed to do magic,' he pointed out. 'You'll only get to attend the hearing with me.'

'Well, actually,' said Hermione, her eyes lighting up mischievously, 'while I was looking through this place, I found a book on the laws of the wizarding world and found a most interesting passage in the chapter related to offences made by underage humans. Apparently, the Trace isn't tied to you or your wand, but rather to where you live. Basically, as long as there's another of-age magical recorded as having lived at your place of residence, you can do magic and you'll get away with it because they'll just assume that it was them and not you.'

Harry struggled to comprehend what this all meant, but frowned when he realised what it meant for muggle-borns.

'But that's unfair, isn't it? It means that—'

'It only affects people like me,' Hermione nodded sadly. Harry could see that she was upset over having to spend her holidays at her friends' place to practise magic. He grinned as he realised that it meant that he could now do magic at Grimmauld Place. He wouldn't have to limit himself to theory while he studied!

_'Evanesco!'_

With a wave of his wand, he Vanished his sandwich, accidentally vanishing the bin it was in along with it.

'...Oops?'

Hermione sighed and grabbed his hand.

'Your wand motion wasn't too far off, but you're poking and it's supposed to be more of a jab.'

She then traced the correct wand motion and Vanished a nearby tissue. Harry shook her hand off and tried again, this time succeeding.

'Wow, thanks, Hermione. Any chance you could help me with my other spells?'

There was no mistaking the gleeful smile that spread on her face as she worked through the first year spells with him. Luckily, there weren't many of those and soon they were done. Harry was slightly ashamed to realise that he'd been doing many first year spells wrong, but Hermione was patient with him, not at all like she usually was. But then, they were at home, where she was much less stressed than at Hogwarts.

Harry only feared that he wouldn't get to use even those easy spells after the 12th. Hermione saw him frown and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Harry, relax. You'll be fine. I've looked it up and there's no way they can expel you.'

'If you say so, Hermione.'

He grimaced as he remembered the prophecy.

'About what they told me—'

'You don't have to tell us if you don't want to.'

'I do want to, but I just feel like – like it's somehow dangerous if you knew. Like Voldemort might come after you to—'

To find out the second half, but saying that would lead to telling Hermione about the prophecy, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

'To get information?'

He nodded, his insides going cold at the thought of Hermione being tortured for information. If Voldemort wanted something badly, it was practically impossible to stop him, and he might use Harry or his friends to get to it, as that seemed like a very Voldemort thing to do. And then it would all be Harry's fault. He knew that Hermione wouldn't agree to stop being friends with him to stay safe, though, so he didn't say anything.

'Well, if you ever do decide to tell us, I promise that I won't tell them anything.'

As he took in the stubborn set of her jaw and the fierce glint in her eyes, Harry wished he didn't have to make such a difficult choice.

'I – can I think about it for a bit?'

'Yeah, sure, take your time, Harry.'

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, and Harry could see that she was thinking about something, judging by the way she worried her lip and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. But then, when was Hermione ever _not_ thinking?

Suddenly, her eyes lit up in something akin to realisation and she asked, 'Harry, Sirius said something about an "anti-Dumbledore rant" earlier today. Care to explain?'

'Well, I wouldn't call it an anti-Dumbledore rant, more like criticism. I – er – wasn't too happy with the Headmaster's actions over the summer — you know, the whole letter thing and keeping me in the dark — that piece of information I just got told is pretty important – not to mention sending me to the Dursleys every summer – well, I think you can understand why I'd be angry with him. That's not to say I don't respect him, he's a great man, but...' he made a half-hearted gesture with his hand, hoping that Hermione wouldn't tell him off for disrespecting authority.

'That doesn't mean you have to approve of everything he does,' Hermione finished for him. He nodded. 'You're not going to go wage war on him for it though, right?' she asked worriedly. 'He's still a good man, he's just made mistakes.'

'Good heavens, no,' Harry answered while privately wondering when the line between mistakes and deliberate harm had become so blurred. 'Even if I did want to do that, Dumbledore's the most powerful wizard alive, while I'm just Harry. I wouldn't have stood a chance.'

He noticed that Hermione was eyeing him with a weird look on her face and asked, 'What?'

'Nothing. Now, do you want to come down yet?'

Harry looked at his watch, but then remembered that it was still broken since the Second Task and cast a Time-Telling Charm, which showed that it was almost time for dinner.

'Can I go down after dinner, when everyone's going to be asleep? I don't want the others overhearing something like that.'

Hermione nodded understandingly and stood up.

'I'll bring you dinner, too, then.'

'You don't have to—'

'But I want to,' she interrupted and left the room, leaving a smiling Harry in her wake.

...

Harry bit into another brownie and closed his eyes in delight. He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone was expecting him to be extremely upset, and he knew it. It meant that he could finally have some alone time, with no one to disturb him but Hermione, whom he didn't mind anyway. Come to think of it, he valued Ron more for some reason, even though it was Hermione who had been there for him when he'd needed her more.

Like when his name had come out of the Goblet.

Harry noticed what he was doing and pushed the negative thoughts away. He'd forgiven Ron, so why bring up the past? And besides, Ron had gone with him to protect the Philosopher's Stone, opened his house to him, followed him down into the Chamber, told Sirius that if he wanted to kill Harry, he'd have to kill all three of them, and a pile of other good things. Harry really had no reason to be questioning their friendship at all.

He cast the Time-Telling Charm again and sighed as he realised that it was almost eleven o'clock. Hermione had gone back downstairs and subtly hinted at everyone to go to sleep, so that Harry could be left alone with Sirius and Remus. Boy, was he dreading the upcoming conversation. Still, he knew it had to happen, and he'd rather it be sooner than later.

Thus, Harry found himself walking down the stairs, wincing as one of the steps creaked (he'd have to remember which one it was) and hurrying the rest of the way so as not to be seen. Luckily for him, Mrs Weasley was still shocked enough that she hadn't questioned his absence at the dinner table, or so Hermione had told him. He reached the kitchen door and was about to knock when he heard muffled voices that could only belong to Sirius and Remus having an argument. So, Harry decided to wait and listen instead.

'Sirius, I know you're upset, but drinking isn't the way to—'

'Oh, shut it, Remus.'

Sirius' voice was ever so slightly slurred, but he sounded as if he was still in control of himself. Harry heard glass clinking and could only assume that his godfather had poured himself another one of...whatever he was drinking. Though, knowing the wizarding world's lack of originality, it was bound to be Firewhiskey.

'You know you're only proving your mother's predictions at the moment, right?'

Remus' tone sounded torn between amusement and compassion. Sirius laughed, a hollow sound that made Harry wonder if he only pretended to be happy for his sake. Well, it was most likely true. One didn't go through what Sirius had gone through to remain a happy person afterwards.

'What predictions? The one where she said I would grow up to be a jobless moneyless drunk and have to rely on Mudbloods to not become homeless?'

Harry winced at the slur. Sirius' mum sounded more and more like a bitter stuck-up cow each day, and this was only his second day here.

Remus seemingly didn't know what to say to that, so instead he asked, 'Sirius, what would Harry think if he saw you like this?'

What _would_ Harry think? Curse his thoughts for being so jumbled up.

'Oh, don't start with the "role-model" rubbish. You know I lost any chance of being someone Harry could look up to the day I suggested the switch.'

Harry vowed to tell Sirius how much he looked up to him and appreciated him as soon as he next saw him. Well, maybe not right away, they'd have to sort out the thing with his relatives first.

Remus was quiet for a moment.

'You know, Sirius, I think you're focusing too much on yourself here, and less on the big picture. You want to keep wallowing in your self-pity so bad you won't even consider the possibility that—'

'Oh, so now I'm an attention-seeker, am I?'

Sirius' voice was rough and heated. Harry realised that this was a unique chance to find out what Sirius actually thought when he said he was "fine" and "didn't blame himself" and cast a Silencing Charm on himself to make sure he wouldn't be heard. It felt rather like reading someone's diary.

'I didn't say that.'

'Well, you thought it!'

'Sirius, calm down. You're not thinking clearly.'

'So you think I'm not right in the head?'

Harry hoped that this highly-offended version of his godfather only came out when he was drunk, because right now, he was acting like a girl during _those days._ He shuddered as an image of an overly-emotional Hermione came to mind.

'Well, considering you spent almost twelve years in Azkaban and never got a chance to move on from losing James—'

'Look, Remus, I know I'm messed up, but you don't have to rub it in like that.'

'I'm not "rubbing it in", I'm just telling you to stop focusing on yourself — stop making everything about you! Just because you're depressed, grieving and whatever other label you can put on yourself, doesn't mean you're the only one!'

Sirius made a noise of protest. Harry thought that what Remus had said was out of line, but then, he didn't know the full story. Perhaps Remus' words had some truth in them, after all.

'Look around, we're in the middle of a war! Yes, you have issues, but other people do too, so stop acting like no one understands you! Loads of people can relate – I can – I bet Harry can too—'

Harry shifted uncomfortably at being brought into this conversation. He didn't like it when people discussed him behind his back.

He heard a slam and a frustrated cry.

'That's the thing! I wish Harry didn't have to relate to me – I wish none of you did – and I'm part of the reason why he can—'

Harry clenched his fingers. Was his constant blaming himself for Cedric's death this annoying? He resolved to try and not blame himself anymore, if it left people feeling as frustrated and helpless as he was feeling now.

'No, you're not, Sirius! You didn't kill his parents, so _stop blaming yourself!'_

'Fine, Remus! I did not kill James and Lily! There, I said it, happy now? It still doesn't change the fact that I let him be sent to those horrid Muggles – I stood there and watched as Hagrid took him away – I even offered my motorbike – and all because I cared about revenge more than I cared about him!'

Harry winced. He had thought about this for a fairly long time – he just couldn't understand how anyone would give up their godson for the piece of filth that Wormtail was – but Sirius clearly regretted it and cared about him immensely, and he didn't know the full story anyway, so he forgave him.

'You asked Hagrid to give him to you, did you not?'

So that was what had really happened. Harry felt his mouth break out into a smile. Sirius hadn't given him up after all. _I knew there was more to it!_

'Yeah, but what does it matter? I still let him be sent there. I'm a terrible godfather.'

'You're not, you've just...made mistakes. We all do.'

'Well, I've made far too many. Not to mention today, when I found that his relatives abuse him and did absolutely nothing.'

Harry smiled and sighed in relief. Looking back, the notion that Sirius might even consider reacting like the others was ridiculous, and Harry felt a bit guilty for thinking of his godfather in such a way. And judging by the way Remus talked, he didn't think anything of the sort either.

'What were you supposed to do? We were both shocked.'

'Well, I could have at least said something! Judging by his reaction, no one's ever told him anything good! And now he thinks that I'm finding the whole thing funny, or think he's weak, or he's lying, or some other such rubbish!'

Harry froze. How did Sirius know what he had been thinking?

'How do you know that?' asked Remus, echoing Harry's thoughts. 'Maybe he reacted like that because he didn't want to worry us. You know how he is.'

'Because I know how abused children think! Maybe he didn't want to worry us, but that didn't warrant such a reaction. He would have started apologising, not ran away.'

'And how do you know how abused children think, Sirius?'

Remus' voice was strange. Sirius stayed quiet for a moment before sighing and snapping, 'Because I've been there, all right? Now can you please stop interrogating me?'

Harry almost fell over in his shock. Sirius had been abused too? Walburga Black did seem like the type of person to abuse their son. He felt himself being filled with compassion towards his godfather. If Sirius' time at home had been anything like Harry's at the Dursleys', then it was no wonder he had run away. Thank God for Hogwarts being a 10-month-long boarding school.

'Sirius, I knew your family wasn't exactly nice, but this...Why didn't you tell us? And how bad was it?'

'James found out when I showed up half-dead on his doorstep, but I made him promise not to tell any of you guys. I didn't want to worry you, and it wasn't that bad. All they ever did was withhold meals, lock me in my room and take turns in hexing me occasionally, it's not half as bad as some people have it. And I learned healing magic early on, so it was fine. I don't have any lasting scars anyway, at least not from _them_.'

Sirius' abuse mirrored Harry's own, except for the magic, Harry realised. As horrible as he felt for Sirius, some part of him couldn't help but be excited at having someone to relate to. His friends were amazing, but it really wasn't the same as having someone who could actually understand.

'Not that bad?! Sirius, you—'

'Yes, Remus, not that bad! See, this is why I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd react like this! I'm fine, it happened _years_ ago, there's no need to overreact!'

'I''m not overreacting, we both know that being in this house is affecting you badly. You're having nightmares – yes, Sirius, I know you are – you sometimes look as if you're about to have a panic attack, especially around your room, which I frankly don't even know why you're still using, and I've seen you have obvious flashbacks. You're not fine.'

That was even more news to Harry, and he wondered how much more he would be able to find out if he turned eavesdropping into a habit. His heart also ached for Sirius, being able to understand and relate only making it more painful. He promised to himself that he would find a way to fix his godfather, whatever it took. And maybe fix himself along the way.

'Whatever, Remus, I'm going to turn in.'

There was a scraping of a chair on the stone floor and steps sounded. Harry looked around frantically, trying to find somewhere to hide, but didn't see anything and cursed himself for forgetting his Invisibility Cloak and not coming up with a backup plan as the door opened and he came face to face with Sirius, whose eyebrows raised in surprise. Harry went red immediately and started stuttering, but Sirius waved him away and said, 'Come in, then.'

Numbly, Harry followed Sirius back into the kitchen and sat down on the other end of the table, not at all oblivious to the looks that Sirius and Remus were now trading. Eventually, Sirius sat down beside Remus, who discreetly sent some kind of charm at him – probably a Sobering Charm, judging by the way his eyes cleared – and they both turned to regard Harry. He shivered under their imposing gazes, wondering how anyone's expression could look so unreadable while also clearly showing what they were feeling at the moment.

'So.'

Harry felt a swooping feeling in his chest. Even if he could deal with Sirius and Remus knowing about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his aunt and uncle, now he'd been caught eavesdropping. It was a wonder he wasn't being yelled at yet, never mind...something worse.

'So?'

His voice came out slightly high-pitched, and he wondered if it was normal for him to be more terrified of his godfather and his father's friend than Voldemort. Well, as normal as he could get, considering he was Harry Potter.

'Talk.'

His godfather went straight to the point, not at all like his usual self, getting side-tracked constantly and sometimes forgetting what he was supposed to be talking about. Harry realised that this was his first time seeing this version of Sirius. He had yet to decide if it was good for him or not; if he was _threatened_ , as sad as it was for him to have to worry about being threatened by someone who was family in all but blood (and probably blood too, considering that the pureblood families were all interrelated, if the tapestry he had seen in the drawing room was to be believed).

Sirius and Remus' expectant stares brought Harry out of his musings and he took a deep shuddering breath, scowling at himself internally. Seriously, if he kept getting lost in his head like that, then perhaps the Daily Prophet's portrayal of him as a psychopath had some merit to it.

But what was he supposed to say? With any other person, Harry would have played dumb or worn his "I'm-fine" mask, but he knew that would not work here. They were clearly expecting him to tell the truth — so then, why not do just that? He knew how to defend himself after all, in case he turned out to be mistaken and one of them (or both) actually got violent with him, as unlikely as it was.

'Yes, they abuse me,' said Harry, fighting to keep his voice as impassive as possible. 'It's nothing serious, though, and they almost never get physical, unless I really piss them off, specifically Uncle Vernon.'

Sirius gritted his teeth and Remus let out a very wolf-like growl, but they both stayed quiet and so Harry took this as his cue to continue, realising that they wouldn't rest until they got as much detail as possible anyway.

'As a child, my room was a small cupboard under the stairs. I would get locked there for the slightest misdeed, and even for things that weren't my fault. Almost everything in the house got blamed on me, so I was in there quite often. Depending on the seriousness of my supposed transgression, my stay in the cupboard would last for anywhere from a few hours to a few days, though they only locked me in for more than a day when I didn't have school. I was only let out for bathroom breaks and such.'

'But...they fed you, right?' asked Remus.

'Yeah, I still got normal meals — well, what they thought was normal for a "freak", anyway. It's not like they could outright starve me, someone at the school would notice. Not that they didn't still make me as thin as a child could reasonably be,' he added darkly. 'They also made me do chores as soon as I could walk, and I had to learn to cook for all of them when I turned six. It's fine, though, I like cooking.'

 _Unless I'm cooking for a fat walrus_. There was a loud smashing sound as Sirius' glass broke, spilling it's contents on his shirt. Harry had to suppress a laugh as he was reminded of Aunt Marge, even as revulsion at comparing his godfather to _that woman_ settled in. Remus waved his wand absently, cleaning the mess, and Harry had to admire his ability to do magic without having to focus. Someday, he vowed, he would be able to do that too.

'Right, well, I was moved out of my cupboard when my Hogwarts letters started coming because my aunt and uncle were freaked out by them knowing my exact address. They toned it down after that, no doubt scared that I'd tell someone and get them cursed, or even curse them myself. That didn't stop them from putting five different locks on my door and bars on my window and feeding me through a cat flap in the summer of 1992, though.'

Sirius let out a strangled sound. Harry felt bad for him. He imagined what would happen if he found out that Ron or Hermione was being abused and shuddered. Plus, Sirius had gone through it himself, so Harry's predicament was probably very personal to him.

'They gave up on the locks after Ron, Fred and George broke me out, though,' Harry grinned in spite of the moment, remembering the day, or rather, night. If that wasn't true friendship and devotion, he didn't know what was.

'And, well, yeah,' he finished lamely, 'now, they simply make me do chores and hit me occasionally, nothing you should be worried about. I'm sure even normal parents hit their children sometimes too.'

'How hard do they hit you, Harry?'

They'd seemingly decided that Remus would be the one asking the questions, something Harry thought wise, as Sirius didn't look like he could talk without yelling and swearing at the moment. His expressions seemed to range between anger and guilt, and Harry once again felt guilt of his own for making his godfather go through that. If only he'd kept his mouth shut...Well, at least Sirius wasn't turning purple like Uncle Vernon had a tendency to do.

As Harry answered Remus' question, he waved a hand dismissively, 'Not hard at all, and it's not like they full on beat me, just the occasional slap and punch or push. It was worse when I was a child, but now, I don't think their behaviour could even be counted as abuse.' With a smile, he added, 'Not since I threatened them with a convicted mass murderer.'

While under any other circumstances, this would have garnered a smile or a smirk, now, Sirius simply sat there, ashen faced and looking as though he might keel over any second. Harry shifted in his seat, painfully aware that the silence was quickly turning awkward. Well, if it wasn't awkward before, anyway.

A few minutes passed and neither Sirius, nor Remus had made a single sound. Harry cleared his throat.

_'Well?'_

Remus blinked rapidly as if to shake himself out of his thoughts and nudged Sirius, who immediately blurted out, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault, Sirius.' Seeing that Sirius was about to protest, Harry added, 'Blame Wormtail and Voldemort. Well, and my relatives for being such heartless pricks.'

'Still, I'm sorry for not trying harder to get you out of there. If I'd known that they treat you this way, I'd have—'

'It doesn't matter anymore.' Harry was desperate to make his godfather see sense and stop this extremely uncomfortable conversation. He'd never been good with accepting apologies, especially if they were undeserved. 'Really, don't beat yourself up for it. I don't blame you for anything, so you shouldn't blame yourself as well. And that goes for you, too, Remus.'

Remus closed his mouth abruptly and gave a half-smile, while Sirius just nodded, though he still didn't look reassured. Still, it was better than him apologising constantly, so Harry considered that progress. He plastered a small smile on his face and said, 'Thank you.'

'Harry,' Sirius found his voice, 'when I'm cleared...I'm getting you out of there.'

He didn't say anything else, but Harry understood him anyway and his grin widened. Perhaps Grimmauld Place wasn't the best of houses, but it was better than Privet Drive, and he didn't care where he went, anyway. And if Dumbledore decided to interfere, then so help him. Harry respected the man, but the thing about blood wards and his mother's sacrifice was rubbish, and he didn't think he'd ever forgive him for forcing him to stay with the Dursleys. No matter what reasons, there was never an excuse for keeping a child in an abusive home.

Both men stood up suddenly and hugged Harry, pulling him up and out of his chair, which fell to the floor with a crash. He felt his glasses slide off his nose and fall down, being caught in his hair and hanging limply by his face. This hug was undoubtedly less awkward than the one from yesterday, probably because Harry wasn't the one who initiated it.

He eventually wriggled out of the group hug and sat back down uncertainly, wondering where this conversation was going to go next. Sirius and Remus sat back down as well, both looking considerably more at ease now that the main issue had been solved. Harry wondered if they were expecting him to be somehow damaged emotionally, as he'd heard abused children sometimes were — like Sirius, who apparently had PTSD from being in his old house.

On cue, Remus asked, 'Harry, are you all right?'

'Look, I know you guys probably expect me to be messed up and all, but I'm really not.' Both adults sighed in relief, and Harry did too. This was one instance where he was glad they could read him so well, because it meant that they wouldn't walk on eggshells around him. 'You don't have to worry about me. The most they've done is make me particularly prone to trusting innocent convicted murderers after only about half an hour of knowing them.'

He and Sirius traded grins, though Sirius' was slightly hesitant.

'So how are we going to pay them back?'

'Huh?'

Sirius expected him to get revenge on the Dursleys? A younger Harry might have jumped at the opportunity, but now...

'Can't we just leave them alone?'

'What? But, Harry, after all they did—'

'Please, Sirius, I just want to forget them and move on. I'll be living here soon anyway, messing up their lives won't benefit me at all. They'll get their comeuppance one way or another, we don't have to be the ones to enact that justice. Plus, there's a chance that it will be traced back to us, and then we might get in trouble.'

'But—' Remus stomped on Sirius' foot, '— _fine,_ but only because we might get in trouble and I don't want to go back to Azkaban again.' He pouted petulantly and added, 'I hate you both.'

Harry snorted. Remus smirked and sent a Stinging Hex at Sirius, who yelped and demanded angrily, 'What was that for?!'

'So you can have a legitimate reason to hate me.'

Sirius shook his head and gestured at Remus to Harry, 'See. Don't let his Professor-ness fool you, Harry. He's just as bad as the rest of us.'

Harry laughed and they fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the two Marauders' occasional friendly bickering and Sirius summoning an elf (Kreacher, Harry learned it's name was) to get them all Butterbeers.

'Harry, do you cut?'

Harry spit out his Butterbeer. _'What?!_ I – where did you even get that from? Why would I do such a thing?'

He'd heard about people who injured themselves – had _seen_ it even, on the arms of a few Hogwarts students – but couldn't understand why someone would do such a thing. Wasn't the pain others inflicted on them enough?

Remus, who had tensed immediately when the question had been asked, sighed in relief. Sirius looked down guiltily and fiddled with his sleeves, and Harry felt a pit grow in the bottom of his stomach. Surely, his godfather hadn't been one of them?

'Well, it's just – sometimes, people inflict physical pain on themselves—'

'I know that there is such a thing as self-harm,' Harry interrupted. 'What I don't understand is why on earth someone would harm themselves _on top_ of what others already do to them.'

Sirius stilled and the haunted look in his eyes became more pronounced as he spoke, as though reciting something from a textbook, 'Everyone does it for a different reason. Some do it to feel in control. Some do it to distract themselves from the mental pain. Some do it because it calms them down. Some do it because they feel like they deserve it.'

'And you?' asked Remus shrewdly. At Sirius' flinch, he added, 'Oh, come on, Sirius, it's pretty damn obvious with how you're acting and how much you know. Why did you cut?'

Well, at least the pink, almost white, perpendicular lines that Harry had seen on Sirius' forearms now made sense. He'd always thought they were from Remus, despite the fact that werewolf scratches couldn't possibly be so straight and ordered. Sirius' explanation also opened his eyes. He still didn't understand why they couldn't just find something like a hobby to distract them instead, but he supposed that fully understanding self-harm came with experiencing it. _In which case, let's pray that I never understand it._

Sirius gripped his can of Butterbeer so tight that some of the drink splashed out and his knuckles turned white as he explained, 'I did it because I'd heard loads of stories about people who did it and I felt like I had to do it as well, given my predicament at the time — like I was _supposed_ to. Kind of like smoking, a lot of people did it in our sixth year and so I tried it as well – I'm just lucky that I didn't like it at all. Well, wiith time, I became addicted to cutting and it took losing my knife for me to snap out of it, but that's how I started.'

Harry supposed that made sense, though he didn't want to think about how often Sirius had heard about self-harm for him to decide that he _had_ to do it as well. Not for the first time that night, sympathy for his godfather welled up in him. For them to drive him to cutting himself, the Blacks must have been truly horrible. At least the Dursleys ignored him most of the time, he couldn't imagine the Blacks giving Sirius the same courtesy.

Remus turned his head to look at Sirius properly, just a hint of curiousness in his gaze, and asked, 'Can you explain how none of us ever found out?'

Sirius shrugged. 'A mix of Glamour and Memory Charms.'

The confession was rather anti-climatic, certainly nothing like the shows Aunt Petunia liked to watch, which involved a lot of screaming and crying. Harry felt a shudder go through him at the reminder. The random thought that forcing someone to watch those shows for an hour would be worse than any detention popped through his head.

'You – why, you—' Remus raised his wand and fired off a curse that had Sirius falling from his chair. 'I could have lost my memory! Any of us! There's a reason why Obliviating is so restricted by the ministry, and you just—'

'Okay, okay, I'm sorry!' Sirius got up and Harry immediately stifled a laugh. 'What? What's wrong with me?'

Chuckling, Remus led Sirius over to the refrigerator — probably new, as Harry doubted that the Blacks would have resorted to something so Muggle. Sirius squinted at his reflection and gasped.

'You will stay purple for a week, Padfoot,' said Remus, smirking smugly. 'Moreover, you will find that anything you touch will also be turned purple and—'

'Anything?' Sirius interrupted with a gleeful glint in his eyes.

'Except humans and parts of the house itself, like walls and such. But yes, any object you touch will be turned purple.'

Sirius pushed past Remus and ran out of the room. Harry raised his eyebrow at Remus and asked, 'Don't you think that's a bit old? I mean, Colour-Changing Charms, really?'

Remus smiled meaningfully and answered, 'That which is the most obvious is usually the most unexpected. Besides, Sirius hates the colour purple. And don't you think it'd be rather foolish to tell him about the modified Shrinking Charm I put on his nails and hair?'

Harry snorted and the two wizards followed Sirius out into the hall, the previous conversation all but forgotten. Clearly, they must have passed some sort of Silencing Ward, because suddenly their ears were full of very familiar screeching.

'BLOOD-TRAITOR, MUDBLOOD-LOVER, HOW DARE YOU TURN ME PURPLE—'

Sirius was running around and touching every trinket he could find while yelling, 'Take that, you old hag!

Harry was on his knees and clutching his sides in a matter of seconds. The scene was just too hilarious, and Sirius deciding that the space was too cramped for a human and turning into a dog made it all the more so. Beside him, Remus was laughing, looking more carefree than Harry had ever seen him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that don't know, "aro" means "aromantic", which means that the person is unable to feel romantic attraction.

Despite Harry's protests at being woken up early the next morning, Remus had insisted on taking him to see a Healer, and so he'd seen St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the first time. The place wasn't all that different from most Muggle hospitals, but for the type of injuries treated there. Luckily, except for his eyes, which couldn't be healed anyway, the Healer had proclaimed him to be in perfect health, if a little on the thin side. It seemed that any injuries he should have retained from the Dursleys were healed by his accidental magic, and later the long stay at Hogwarts.

They entered the house and Harry, after nodding a hello at Mrs Weasley, who immediately set about heating his breakfast for him, went up to his room – and was immediately surrounded by Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He shrugged his jacket off and was about to say something when a loud crack made them all jump as Fred and George Apparated into the room.

'Hello, Ickle Harrykins—'

'We have noticed—'

'That you have been acting really suspiciously—'

'Ever since a certain talk—'

'With two certain Marauders.'

Ron rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated huff.

'Oh, cut it out, you two. We know you're only doing it to annoy us.'

'You probably memorised your lines before coming here,' Harry quipped, garnering chuckles from his three younger friends. The twins deflated slightly, but did not stop grinning.

'Fair enough, Harry,' said Fred, 'but do tell us, where have you been these past two days or so and why do you look like someone's been poking at your bits?'

Harry flushed. While, thankfully, his examination hadn't involved _that,_ he had been forced to undress right down to his underwear so that the diagnostic spell the Healer had used could get better and more accurate results, and standing almost naked in front of his former teacher and someone he didn't know (but who, Harry was sure, knew _him)_ wasn't a pleasant experience.

George burst out laughing and managed to choke out, 'So someone _has_ been poking at your bits!'

At that proclamation, Fred and Ron were sent into peals of laughter as well, while the girls looked like they might be sick. Harry couldn't blame them.

'Guys, guys! Calm down! No one was touching me like _that,_ I just – er – I went see a Healer, and—'

'Oh. _Oh._ ' Ron nodded in sympathy, though that didn't stop him from chuckling. 'Yeah, Mum's made me see one of those a few times as well. Mostly after our adventures.'

Harry, Ron and Hermione traded grins.

'So why go now?' Ginny asked. Harry's smile slid off his face and he glanced at Hermione, who nodded and smiled slightly. He drew strength from her reassurance that it would be all right, that his friends wouldn't react any worse than Sirius and Remus had, that they already knew most of it anyway.

'My relatives.'

He neglected to mention anything else, but it was clear by his friends' faces that they understood anyway. Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, 'Congrats, mate. Now we just have to wait for Sirius to be freed.'

'Yeah, and fuck those bitter Muggles,' George added, 'Say, Harry, has Sirius come up with a revenge plan already?'

'Actually, no. I asked him to not do anything. I don't want him to be cleared of all charges, only to be imprisoned again for breaking the Statute of Secrecy.'

'Makes sense,' said Fred, and the others murmured in agreement, though Ginny looked put out at not being allowed to use her Bat-Bogey Hex on "those foul people", as she'd called them.

Looking around at his friends, Harry grinned contentedly. He'd been extremely lucky to befriend them all, and he couldn't have asked for better friends. All six of them had reached the stage in their friendship when they could understand and accept each other so well that words were rarely needed.

'So, Harry,' said Ron with a meaningful look, 'care to tell us what had you storming out of the room yesterday and not showing up until just now?'

Harry felt a wave of ice go through his body.

'Well – er – I can't tell you.' Harry saw Ron's ears redden and, before the redhead could say something, he added, 'It's complicated. Voldemort might use you to get information.'

'It's that bad?' asked Ginny, her eyes wide.

'Yes,' Harry confirmed, 'I wasn't even supposed to know. Dumbledore didn't want to tell me. It's very serious, related to the Order.'

A chill swept through the group and suddenly the threat of Voldemort seemed that much more closer.

'So what's with the anti-Dumbledore rant that Sirius mentioned?'

It was obvious that Ron was trying to change the subject. Harry went along and recounted the events of the day before yesterday.

'Figures,' said George, 'you wouldn't have a tantrum unless you were seriously pissed.'

Harry groaned in embarrassment and said, 'Well, I'm not anymore. Not really, anyway. I don't like him meddling with my life, but he thought he was doing good, and I don't think he knew about my relatives. In any case, even if I still was, I wouldn't be able to do shit.'

'Yeah, for all that the old man's insane, he's a bloody powerful wizard.'

'The road to hell is paved with good intentions,' said Hermione, a faraway look on her face. Harry laughed.

'Oh, come on, Hermione, it's not like _we're_ going to hell, is it?'

Hermione bit her lip.

'If Voldemort wins—'

'He won't,' Ginny assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder, 'Harry'll beat him, won't you, Harry?'

''Course I will,' said Harry, sounding more sure than he actually was.

...

'So you move your wand down and then up and down again, like this – and make sure your wand movement is precise, the more accurate your wand movement, the cleaner your cut – Harry, are you even listening?'

Harry, who had been idly shredding his quill's feather with his hands while listening to Hermione with his right ear, startled and hastily sent a Severing Charm at a nearby piece of parchment, causing it to crack in the middle and crumble to dust. Hermione sighed in exasperation and repaired the parchment, frowning at him.

'I'm sorry?' Harry offered sheepishly. Hermione shook her head.

'I don't understand. You did it just fine when you needed to corner Ced—' she stopped abruptly, her eyes widening. 'Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry—'

'It's fine, Hermione,' said Harry, pushing the emotions that resurfaced at the reminder of Cedric to the back of his mind. 'I guess I just really needed it to work then, so it...did.'

Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded ridiculous. Magic was supposed to work whenever the wizard wanted it to, not when the wizard _really needed_ it. It meant that either he was a shoddy wizard, or there was something wrong with him and his magic.

'Well, that's not how it's supposed to work,' said Hermione, biting her lip calculatingly. Harry was about to thank her for pointing out the obvious, but resisted the urge. She was only trying to help, after all. 'There's something wrong with it. Maybe we should ask Dumbledore...'

'I suppose I should be glad I can use magic at all.'

Harry had just gotten back from his hearing, and it had been a complete farce. Despite Hermione's earlier assurances, he was pretty sure that, had it not been for Dumbledore's quick talking, he wouldn't have escaped the Ministry building with his wand. He was scared to think of how Sirius' trial would go, but at least they had a contingency plan in place. Granted, the plan would probably compromise both Remus' and Tonks' reputations as law-abiding individuals, and most certainly rid Tonks of her position in the Ministry, but it was a plan nevertheless. Harry hadn't had the luxury of even that.

And Dumbledore was another issue entirely. The old man wouldn't even look him in the eye! Needless to say, Harry wouldn't be trusting the Headmaster with any issues regarding his magic any time soon.

'Oh, come on, Harry, I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'

'It was, Hermione.'

Seeing that she wanted to press the topic, he added hastily, 'But anyway, I guess you're right about asking an adult. I think we should ask Sirius or Remus, though.'

'But why not Dumbledore?'

'He's got enough on his plate,' lied Harry easily. 'Besides, Sirius and Remus are closer to us, and they're good wizards too.'

Hermione nodded slowly. Harry exhaled in relief and went back to casting the Severing Charm, trying to control how much power he put into the spell. He'd heard of ridiculously overpowered wizards who had to control themselves in order to not blow everything up, and although he doubted having too much power was his problem, it was still worth a try.

It quickly backfired, though, when he accidentally put all his power in the spell and turned the parchment to dust. Hermione huffed in frustration and started packing her notes.

'Come on, I can't continue like this anymore. Let's ask them now.'

Harry shrugged, packed his own stuff and followed Hermione as she made her way to Sirius' room. He was about to knock, but hesitated when he heard loud voices from inside the room. Intrigued, he opened the door and walked in, Hermione entering after him.

They were met with a hilarious scene: Sirius was rummaging in his closet and throwing clothes on the floor while wailing half-hysterically about not being able to find the right robes. Harry snorted and joined an amused Remus in standing off to the side and occasionally sending Stinging Hexes at Sirius, which only served to aggravate him even more.

'Er, Sirius? Is there a problem?' asked Hermione, frowning in concern, though Harry could see the hint of a smile on her lips. Sirius stopped and answered, almost shouting, 'Yes, there is — I can't find my best robes!'

Remus smirked and withdrew a black cloth from behind his back. Sirius froze.

'You – You've had them all this time? Why, you—'

Harry rather suspected that what Sirius was actually worried about had nothing to do with robes. His trial was tomorrow; he had to be nervous. As he watched Sirius tear the robes from Remus' grasp, he saw his hair glint and move in the afternoon light — and then it fell off.

'Huh?' asked Harry incredulously as beside him, Remus roared with laughter. 'You're wearing a _wig?'_

The image of Remus standing in the kitchen and telling him about a joke which involved Shrinking Charms came to mind. Clearly, it had finally shown itself. He cringed and looked away as he got a good look at his godfather's head, which was almost bald. A buzz cut really didn't suit him.

Sirius swore loudly and whined, 'Oh, come on, Moony! Get it off me! I can't arrive at my trial looking like a failed rock star.'

Remus simply smirked. Harry felt a nudge to his ribs and turned to look at Hermione, who had produced a camera and was smirking at him while taking pictures. He laughed and said, 'Give me one of those, will you? This is excellent blackmail material. Where did you get this, by the way?'

'Summoned it. I've had this one ever since I was a child, that's why the model is rather old. I couldn't bring it to Hogwarts, but here—'

They were interrupted by Sirius, who gestured at Remus as he said, 'Just – just look at him. Do you still think he isn't evil?'

'Put him to rights, Professor,' said Hermione, barely suppressed humour echoing in her voice.

'Hermione, are you sure?' Remus played along. 'After all, just imagine the look on Fudge's face if Sirius arrives looking like _that._ '

'Just give me back my precious hair already!'

'Can't you put it back yourself, though?' asked Harry. 'Like, aren't there...I dunno, potions or something for that sort of thing?'

'You see, Harry, that is the beauty of modified charms. You can get them to do almost anything, including make them so that they can only be taken off by the caster.'

'Isn't inventing spells without registering them illegal?' Sirius asked from where he was sitting on his bed, sulking. Harry almost felt sorry for him, but the whole thing was just too damn funny.

'Aren't you illegal?' Remus shot back. Sirius threw his arms up in frustration, but grinned a moment later and shook his head. Harry wasn't used to not seeing his black hair falling around his face as he did so.

'You got me on that one, Moony.'

He cleared his throat.

'So, about that hair?'

Remus waved his wand and hair sprouted from Sirius' almost-bare scalp. Harry exhaled in relief.

'Thank Merlin. You looked hideous without it.'

Sirius looked like he was about to cry as he clutched his hair and ran into the bathroom adjacent to his room, probably to look in the mirror. A moment later, he yelled, 'You know, it actually looks even better now!'

'We're happy for you, Sirius!' Hermione yelled back and fixed Harry with a meaningful look. He understood immediately and turned to Remus.

'Right – er – the reason we came here. I've noticed something wrong with my magic.'

'Oh?' asked Remus. 'Mind showing an example?'

Harry rummaged around in his pockets, fished out a piece of parchment and cast a Severing Charm on it. Remus' eyebrows rose visibly as the parchment cracked down the middle and dissolved into dust. He extended his hand and Harry passed him the remains of the parchment wordlessly, watching as he examined it, eventually shaking his head and calling over his shoulder, 'Hey, Padfoot, would you have a look at this?'

'Huh?'

Sirius returned from the bathroom. As soon as his eyes landed on the parchment, he frowned and nodded at Harry, 'Your doing?'

Harry nodded, apprehensive. Beside him, Hermione gripped his hand, looking slightly pale. He squeezed her hand and said quietly, 'It'll be all right, Hermione, don't worry. What are you expecting, a death sentence?'

'No, but I've read about a few examples of wizards with similar issues to yours and—'

'Let me guess, there once was a wizard who couldn't cast second-year charms properly and something gruesome happened to him?'

Hermione laughed and they turned their attention back to the two older wizards, who were now silently trading glances. After a moment, Sirius asked, 'You don't think?'

Remus sighed.

'It would seem so. Can you teach him?'

'Yeah, I still remember some of my training.' Sirius' lip curled in distaste. 'Can you believe that Albus wants to use Snape when he finally "deems Harry fit" to learn it?' He snorted. 'Like he can deem him fit to do anything, much less assign him to the world's greasiest Occlumens.'

'Er, Sirius? Remus?' Harry broke in, 'What are you talking about?'

'And what is an Occlumens?' Hermione asked with a furrowed brow, 'I remember seeing the word "Occlumency" on the title of a book, are the two related?'

'Yeah, they are. Occlumency is the opposite of Legilimency. In case you don't know, Legilimency is—'

'The ability to forcefully enter and attack the mind of another,' Hermione recited,' I read it in a textbook.'

'Yes, precisely.'

'So it's essentially mind-reading?'

'Yeah, you could call it that.'

'So then Occlumency is...defending your mind?'

Sirius nodded.

'Right, you're probably wondering how all this applies to your problem. Well, you see...'

While Sirius visibly pondered over how to explain whatever it was – clearly, whatever it was, it was very widely known, so Harry imagined that Sirius probably felt like a Muggle trying to explain TV – he nudged Hermione in the ribs and muttered, 'Would you look at that? Sirius has his very own Professor mode.'

Hermione cracked up, but then Sirius started talking again and both teenagers went quiet.

'Magic is based on intent. But when you are young and still in school, it is possible to mistake intent for emotion. This usually happens with students who have weaker control over their emotions.'

Harry could see where Sirius was going with this. He had to admit that his control over his emotions wasn't the best, and the incident with Aunt Marge and the number of points he'd lost because of his temper were clear indications of that.

'Teachers usually look out for first years to weed out such students so that they can receive extra training to learn to control those emotions. But what I'm guessing happened is that McGonagall either missed you, or you developed this – forgive me for my choice of words – emotional instability later on.'

Both of those possibilities were plausible, however, Harry would rather think that he'd been missed in all the excitement concerning the Stone than that all he'd been through had emotionally damaged him in any way.

'This is where Occlumency comes in. You see, besides defending your mind, it also has some good side-effects. One of them is that, as long as your shields are up, you are able to control your emotions, and even dull them to some extent.'

'That seems like a very useful skill to have,' said Hermione, and even Harry had to concede that this wasn't a skill he'd be averse to learning, despite him being no Hermione. 'Why don't they teach it to everyone?'

'The best way to learn Occlumency is to have someone you trust use Legilimency on you over and over again and meditation. Meditation isn't something you need a class for and there simply wouldn't be enough time in a period, even a double one, to go through a whole class. It's the sort of thing that is better taught to one or two people. Plus, most people never expect to be attacked by a Legilimens in their life.'

'So you'll teach me?'

'Yeah — if you want to.'

'Of course I do! When can we start?' Taking one look at Hermione's eager face, Harry added, 'And can Hermione join?'

'Not Ron?' asked Remus. Harry shook his head.

'He wouldn't want to do the extra studying.'

Sirius shrugged. 'If you say so, but try to keep the number of people low. I'm no teacher.'

Harry grinned. 'Thanks, Sirius, you're the best.' He stood up. 'We'll leave you to your preparations then, and I'm sure Hermione here can't wait to scour the library for books on the subject and have them all memorised by tomorrow, can you?'

Hermione shook her head fondly.

'You know me too well.'

'That I do.'

Harry went to leave, but stopped as he reached the door and looked back at his godfather, who looked more pale than he had been when they'd arrived.

'Good luck, Sirius,' he attempted a reassuring smile, 'You'll be okay.'

...

No. No, he was _not_ going to be okay. In fact, why not just turn himself over to the Aurors right now and save everyone the trouble? Surely, having your soul sucked out couldn't be that bad? Not worse than what he was going through right now, at any rate.

Sirius shook his head and tried to pretend that the bad thoughts were shaken off with it. He was going to be all right. He was innocent; there was no way they could convict him now that he had a proper trial. They had a contingency plan in case he _was_ convicted. There was nothing that could go wrong.

But that didn't prevent his mind from thinking up a thousand scenarios where he got convicted and sentenced to the Kiss, for reasons ranging from being an illegal Animagus to wearing his hair in a style that the Minister didn't like. Sirius grabbed his head with both hands and squeezed his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to curl up under his blanket and hyperventilate. But as his hearing was in 4 hours and Remus had insisted they come early to prevent something like what happened with Harry from happening to them, that wasn't an option, and so he instead pulled his robe (black with silver trimmings; Remus had joked that it complimented his hair, to which Sirius had hexed him where it hurt) from the hanger and went to the bathroom to dress.

Staring at the mirror, he fingered his thin, pale face and wondered what his reception would be like if he was exonerated. Would people flinch away from him? Would their hands inch towards their wands, before they remembered that he was no longer the big, bad Death Eater the public had thought him to be? Would he be threatened by grief-stricken friends and relatives of those who'd died at the hands of Voldemort and his servants? He'd always imagined himself standing in the courtroom, only just pronounced innocent, preferably with an Order of Merlin as well, smiling smugly as the people who'd condemned him to Azkaban begged for forgiveness. The memory had sent pleasant shivers down his spine, and sometimes he'd even forgotten what he'd done, lost in the satisfaction of proving them all wrong. Right now, all it did was leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Sirius sighed, pretending not to notice the way his breath shook a little at the end, and went down to the kitchen. There, he met Remus and Arthur, who would both be accompanying him to the Ministry, though only Remus would follow him into the courtroom.

'Morning, Sirius,' Arthur greeted him with a shake of his hand, 'looking smart, I see?'

Sirius plastered a smile on his face as the man went on to chatter about various things like the weather and whether he thought the Headmaster would be there to help him. Remus sent a knowing look his way, but didn't comment other than mouthing, _'Relax.'_

Molly bustled into the room at that moment and piled food onto their plates, and if Sirius' plate had a little less than the others', well, he didn't think he could eat a lot right now, anyway.

'So, Sirius, who're you going to use as your defence?'

Sirius choked on his sausage and said, between coughs, 'No one. Fudge sent me a letter where he basically threatened to accuse anyone I chose of aiding and abetting a known criminal.'

The thought of charging into a trial without a defence frightened him more than he cared to admit.

'Is that even legal?' Remus inquired, a hint of outrage in his voice.

'Does it matter?'

All too soon, it was time for them to go. As Sirius drew up the hood of his robe, he thought he might be sick. His body was at least a few degrees colder than usual, and his stomach was making somersaults. The Apparition they'd had to make to get to the Ministry didn't help matters.

Sirius walked up to the security wizard, wanting nothing more than to leave and never come back, and said hoarsely, 'Sirius Black, here for his trial.'

The wizard, his previously bored look gone, looked up at him and immediately scrambled away from him and drew his wand, yelling, 'Sirius Black!'

Despite his nerves, Sirius couldn't help but feel a hint of irritation. 'Yes, it's me,' he bit out, 'now tell me, where are the Aurors that are supposed to detain me?'

All around them, people were inching away from Sirius and his companions and drawing their wands.

'Calm, calm, everyone!' a familiar voice rang out and Sirius sighed in relief as he saw Kingsley and Tonks making their way towards them. If those two were the ones who would lead him down to the courtroom, then there was less chance of him being mysteriously beat up or killed on the way there.

He made sure to not show his relief on his face, though, and instead said coolly, 'Shacklebolt, Tonks.'

Kingsley answered just as coldly, 'Black,' and secured his hands with magical handcuffs after checking his robe pockets for weapons. Sirius sucked in a breath as he watched his grandfather's wand get taken away, but didn't say anything, as it was all part of the plan.

He was then led to an elevator and down a flight of stairs, with Remus trailing awkwardly behind them (Arthur had clapped his shoulder and left on Level 2), and soon they were standing in front of big double doors.

Sirius took a deep breath; this was it. His whole life would be decided behind these doors. If he lost...Sirius didn't want to think about that possibility. He imagined being convicted, Remus and Tonks exploding the chamber and Apparating him away, his face on the front page of the Daily Prophet, once again labelled as a "very dangerous criminal", Harry's face, showing nothing but betrayal—

'Are you ready, Black?'

Even when alone, they couldn't be sure that no one was watching them, and so Kingsley and Tonks opened the doors and shoved him none too gently into the courtroom. Remus managed to clap his shoulder once before heading to the visitors section, which was already filled with reporters.

Sirius gulped as chains extended from the chair he was sitting on and clicked over his arms and legs. He surveyed the Wizengamot and the hateful faces looking down at him, the members muttering between themselves and pointing at him while shaking their heads.

Fudge sent out a bang with his wand and Sirius' heart almost jumped out of his chest. Immediately, the chamber was silent.

'Trial on the 13th of August 1995, into offences committed by one Sirius Cepheus Hydrus Black.'

Sounds of derision were heard when Sirius' full name was announced, only partly related to his Mary Sue-esque name.

'Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge and Amelia Susan Bones. Court Scribe: Percy Ignatius Weasley.'

One glance at Amelia Bones told him that she'd known who'd written the anonymous tip all along, and Sirius sent her a grateful look for taking the time to read it and actually do something about it.

'The charges are as follows: that he, knowingly and in full awareness of the severity of his actions, gave He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the whereabouts of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Johanna Potter nee Evans, which led to their deaths.'

Sirius gripped the handles of his chair.

'That he, knowingly and in full awareness of the severity of his actions, attacked one Peter Jacob Pettigrew, killing him and twelve Muggles in the process.'

The names of the Muggles weren't even announced, and Sirius almost glared at Fudge before remembering that he had to appear as non-threatening as possible.

'That he escaped from prison and evaded capture for 2 years, 1 month and 7 days.'

_Oh, so you actually counted?_

Fudge fixed Sirius with a glare and asked, 'You are Sirius Cepheus Hydrus Black, correct?'

'Yes.'

'How do you plead?'

Sirius' voice was loud and firm when he said, 'Not guilty.'

Yells of outrage broke out around the chamber, and a few witches even attempted to curse him, but their hexes hit the invisible barrier put there just for that and bounced off, hitting the ceiling. Fudge, Sirius noticed, made no move to restrain any of them, and so it took Amelia Bones making a few bangs with her wand and yelling, 'I call for order!' for them all to at least marginally calm down.

'Auror Shacklebolt, administer the Veritaserum,' said Fudge, looking at Sirius as though he was something disgusting on the sole of his shoe. Kingsley walked up to him and he opened his mouth obediently. Once he'd swallowed the Veritaserum, questions began to pour at him from all sides.

'Why did you kill Pettigrew and the Muggles?'

'Do you feel any remorse for what you did?'

'What did You-Know-Who offer you to make you betray your friends like that?'

Beads of sweat formed on Sirius' forehead, the Veritaserum having a hard time deciding which question to answer. Finally, Amelia barked, 'Silence!' and the flow of questions stopped. Through the Veritaserum-induced haze, Sirius saw Fudge and Amelia trading glances, before Amelia cleared her throat and said, 'First question.'

Clearly, they'd decided on her being the questioner, for which Sirius was grateful.

'Were you, or were you not, the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter?'

'No.'

Already, a hint of surprise flickered across Amelia's face.

'Then who was it?'

'Peter Pettigrew.'

'How dare you!'

'He's lying!'

'Give him the Kiss already!'

'Silence! If I am interrupted one more time, I will put a Silencing Charm on the lot of you!'

Everyone went quiet and Amelia continued.

'Why was it common knowledge, then, that you were the Secret Keeper?'

'I was a decoy. It was all my idea. We thought it was a perfect plan. Next to me, who would suspect poor, weak Pettigrew? No one besides James, Lily, Peter and myself knew, not even Dumbledore.'

Amelia nodded.

'Second question. Describe the evening of October 31st 1981.'

In that moment, Sirius was glad that the Veritaserum dulled his emotions, as he began to describe that night.

'I'd planned to check on Peter that night, so I went to his home. When I arrived, it was empty, but there was no sign of a struggle. I understood, then, what Peter must have done. What I'd done.' Despite the Veritaserum, his voice cracked slightly at the end. Some of the witches were looking sympathetic by now.

'I went to Godric's Hollow immediately. When I arrived, the right side of the second floor had been blown off and a Dark Mark was hanging above the house. I walked in and—' he forced his emotions down, Occluding ever so slightly so as not to interfere with the Veritaserum, '—and saw James' body on the staircase. I continued upstairs and walked into the nursery. There, I saw Lily lying on the floor, looking as though she'd been trying to protect something before she died. I then heard Harry crying. Hagrid was holding him when I found him. I asked Hagrid to give him to me, but he refused. I then decided to track down Peter.'

'Aha! So you did kill him, did you?'

'Minister!' Fudge immediately quietened under Amelia's glare, prompting her to continue, 'Third question. Did you, or did you not, kill Peter Pettigrew and the twelve Muggles mentioned before?'

'I did not.'

Many members looked like they wanted to say something, but no one was willing to test Amelia's wrath. To Sirius' stilted delight, a few weren't even surprised.

'Describe the events of November 3rd.'

Sirius could feel the Veritaserum wearing off, as he winced ever so slightly at the reminder that he'd been sent to Azkaban on his birthday. _And a very happy fucking birthday it'd been._

'I'd been searching for Peter for two days now, barely stopping to eat or sleep. I finally found him in a Muggle town and cornered him, but before I could say anything, he shouted that I'd betrayed James and Lily and blasted the street apart with his wand behind his back. While I conjured a Shield Charm, he cut off his finger, turned into a rat and fled down the sewers. My memory's a little hazy from then on, as I'm pretty sure I was hit by something. All I remember is laughing until I passed out. I woke up in Azkaban.'

Amelia was now looking angry, probably at the grievous injustice committed on that day, as were some other members. Sirius felt his hopes rise.

'You say that Peter Pettigrew turned into a rat. How was he able to accomplish that?'

'He's an Animagus, his form is a rat.'

'Preposterous!' Fudge butted in, 'There are only seven registered Animagi – I have the list right here, in fact – and Pettigrew's name isn't on here!'

'He's unregistered.'

Fudge clearly wanted to say more, but Amelia silenced him with a look and asked, 'How do you know about him being an unregistered Animagus?'

Sirius groaned inwardly, realising that his secret was about to be found out. _Now my chances are even worse,_ he thought with no small amount of fear. The Veritaserum, however, did its work and he was forced to speak, 'Him, James and I became Animagi to help Remus Lupin with his transformations.'

'And you did this at what age?'

'I completed my transformation in my fourth year, just after my fifteenth birthday, James completed his shortly after, and Peter was done just at the beginning of our fifth year.'

Despite the illegality of their actions, Amelia looked impressed. Sirius sent a look at Remus, who was now subject to quite a few prejudiced glares, but before he could say anything, Amelia must have noticed the Veritaserum wearing off, because she sent Kingsley to give him another dose. Once that was done, she asked, 'Why did you laugh?'

Now back to being emotionless, Sirius answered, 'I'd been hit by something when the street exploded, and I hadn't slept in 27 hours. And then, once I realised that I'd been had by Peter, the irony and injustice of it made me laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh.'

He was thankful that she'd asked that question, even though it shouldn't have had any impact on the verdict.

'Fourth question. How did you escape Azkaban?'

'I starved myself until I was thin enough to fit through the bars as a dog. Dementors are able to feel human emotions, but not dog, so I was able to slip out when they were bringing in food. I then swam to the shore as a dog.'

'How were you able to stay sane in Azkaban?'

That question caused most members to sit up straighter in their seats. It seemed everyone wanted to know the answer. Sirius just hoped he wouldn't be hauled away by the Unspeakables once this was over.

'I could transform into my dog form when the dementors came close to me. I also knew I was innocent. It wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me, but it kept me going. Think of it as an obsession.'

Amelia made some notes on a clipboard beside her.

'Why did you escape Azkaban when you did?'

'When Fudge came to visit me, I asked for the newspaper.'

He took vicious, though dulled, pleasure in seeing Fudge bristle at the allusion that he was partly to blame for his escape. It was quite poetic, actually.

'There, on the front page, was the Weasley family — and with them, Peter.'

'Pardon?'

'He was the youngest son, Ron's, rat,' Sirius clarified. 'Until that day, I hadn't known where he was. Now that I did, I could find him and make him pay.'

'You were heard muttering, 'He's at Hogwarts,' in your sleep. Who were you referring to?'

'Peter. The newspaper also said that Ron attended Hogwarts, in Harry's year. I couldn't let the rat continue to live in Harry's dormitory, where he could easily do something to him.'

'By "Harry" you mean Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, correct?'

'Yes.'

'What is the relationship between you and Harry Potter?'

'He's like a son to me. I love him more than anything in this world.'

Quite a few witches sighed at this point, and one or two could even be heard muttering, 'How on earth was he even convicted?' Normally, Sirius didn't like such people, but here, it might work in his favour. Fudge and a few other people, however, looked ready to scream, 'Bullshit!'

Amelia gave no indication that his proclamation affected her in any way and continued, 'What did you do between your escape and the events of June 1994?'

'I went to Hogwarts and tried to capture Peter. On Halloween 1993 I tried to break into Gryffindor Tower by slashing the Fat Lady's portrait, but failed. In 1994 that same school year, I tried again, this time getting the passwords from Neville Longbottom, and succeeded. I had gotten to Ron's bed and almost had Peter, but Ron woke up and I had to run. Peter then ran away, and I continued searching for him until the events you mentioned.'

'How did you get the passwords from Neville?' asked Augusta Longbottom sharply, clearly worried for her grandson. Either because it was the first thing she'd said during the trial, or because she wanted to know the answer to that question too, Amelia let it slide.

'I got Hermione Granger's cat, Crookshanks, to bring them to me.'

'You did this all in your Animagus form, correct?'

'Yes.'

Sirius cleared his throat. The questioning had gone on for about an hour already, and he was getting tired of speaking. As he was not used to bright lighting like that of the courtroom, it were also making him drowsy.

'Just a few more questions, Mr Black.'

Surprised by Amelia's politeness, he only nodded and gestured at her to continue.

'Fifth question. Describe the events of June 6th 1994.'

'I was walking along the edge of the forest when I saw Ron chasing after Peter, who must have smelled me and bit his hand to get away. I pounced on Ron and dragged him down the secret tunnel under the Whomping Willow, damaging his leg in the process. Once there, I disarmed him and asked him to give me Peter. He refused. Then Harry and Hermione ran into the room. I also disarmed them. They were under the impression that I was going to kill Harry. Ron and Hermione told me that I'd have to get through them. We argued like that for a few minutes, and then Harry lunged at me. Soon, he had me on the ground at wand point. He said he was going to kill me. I begged him to listen to what I had to say first.

'Then Remus walked in and disarmed me. He asked me where Peter was, then asked me if we had switched Secret Keepers without telling him. I confirmed it. He helped me up and hugged me. We then told the children what had really happened. Then Snape came as well, bound Remus and pointed his wand at me. The children then disarmed him at the same time, knocking him out.

'Remus eventually got Ron to give him Peter and we forced him to transform back into a human,' here, were it not for the Veritaserum, Sirius was sure that his face would have displayed disgust, 'and he immediately started begging us to spare him. We refused and were about to kill him when Harry told us not to. He suggested we bring him to the Dementors and provide him as evidence of my innocence. So we did that. We bound Peter, Remus secured Ron's leg and we started walking out of the tunnel and across the grounds. Then Remus saw the moon, which was full, and started transforming. Peter cursed Ron, transformed and got away.

'I transformed as well and fought Remus, giving the children time to escape. Remus eventually ran into the forest, and I was left at the lake. Then the dementors all came there. I don't remember what exactly happened – I think I passed out – but when I woke up, I was locked in a room at Hogwarts. Dumbledore came in to inform me that I was to be given the Kiss. I told him everything that had happened, as well as all about us being Animagi. Then he left and I was alone until I heard a knock on the window. It turned out to be Harry and Hermione on a hippogriff. They let me out and I escaped on the hippogriff.'

Sirius finished and took a deep breath. Fudge, who had been progressively becoming more and more purple over the course of his tale, called out, 'And was that hippogriff, by any chance, Buckbeak?'

'Yes.'

'So Potter stole that hippogriff we'd sentenced to death and used it to help you escape justice! Shacklebolt, Tonks, Proudfoot, remember to arrest Potter and Granger after this circus is over for aiding and—'

'I thought you said they'd been Confunded by me? And hadn't they only just gotten out of the hospital wing?'

The Veritaserum was wearing off again, as he was able to talk without being asked again. Amelia sighed and told Kingsley to administer a third dose. Fudge, meanwhile, bristled, but apparently realised what admitting that Harry and Hermione had been acting of their own accord would do, so instead he said, 'Fine, Potter and Granger shall have no part in this!'

Sirius met Remus' eyes and the latter rolled his eyes with a somewhat nervous smile. He then turned his attention back to Amelia, who asked, 'Had you had any contact with Mr Lupin prior to that night?'

'No.'

Amelia nodded and let out a breath. 'Right, I think that'll be it. Minister Fudge, anything to add?'

Fudge reddened, but didn't say anything.

'Then, Shacklebolt, administer the antidote.'

Kingsley gave Sirius the antidote for Veritaserum and he immediately felt all his nervousness return, along with the emotions that some of the questions brought up. He sent Remus a panicked look and looked back up at Amelia and Fudge.

'It is now time to vote.'

He felt all his breath go out of his chest. What if he wasn't exonerated? What if they caught him and gave him the Kiss?

'Those in favour of conviction?'

Around half of the members of the Wizengamot raised their hands, and Sirius felt his heart sink. Had he failed?

'Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?'

A few hands slowly went up and Sirius knew that he'd failed. _Well, that's what always happens, isn't it?_ a nasty voice said in his head. _You can't do anything right. You're nothing. You're just a failure. Harry will hate you. You failed him._

Meanwhile, more hands were going up, but somehow, Sirius knew that it wouldn't be enough. He wanted to curse himself, to beat himself to a pulp for ever thinking that he could attend a trial and win. Of course he couldn't. And now he'd robbed Harry of ever having a godfather, even convicted. He'd had one chance to do something right, and he'd failed even that. Sirius thought back to all his answers and tried to think of what he could have said differently.

He looked up at Remus, who was looking very pale, and mouthed, _'Bye,'_ his throat constricting. Remus shook his head fiercely and gestured up at where Amelia had opened her mouth. Sirius slumped back and waited miserably for the Aurors to take him away.

'25 members in favour of conviction.'

How many members were there in the Wizengamot now? This was definitely a close half, which made it all the more insulting.

'27—'

Sirius gasped.

'—members in favour of clearing the accused of all charges.'

He couldn't believe his eyes and ears, even as the crowd erupted, some cheering while others screamed in outrage. He froze in his chair, though the chains had fallen off his arms and legs, and watched as Remus tried to push past the reporters who were all fighting to get to him and bombard him with questions.

'Mr Black, how do you feel?'

He was in a daze. Had he really gotten off? Had he worked himself into near-hysteria, only to find out that he needn't worry?'

'Mr Black—'

Amelia gave off a few bangs with her wand and asked loudly, 'Any objections?'

Fear settled in Sirius' chest anew. What if he'd been granted freedom, only to be taken away a moment later on some trumped up charge? For a moment, no one dared to raise their hand, and then, a toad-like woman with an ugly black bow on the top of her head stood and said, _'Hem hem.'_

Amelia appeared to be revolted. Who was this woman? Certainly no one good, if she wanted to see Sirius back in prison.

'The court recognises Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.'

'Thank you, Madam Bones.' Umbridge's voice had a simpering quality to it that made Sirius feel as though she was talking to five-year-olds instead of a whole Wizengamot court. 'I suggest that Mr Black be sent to Azkaban on the following charges: accessory to the murder of James and Lily Potter, attempted murder of Peter Pettigrew, being an unregistered Animagus, escape from prison, damaging of an old artefact, cursing two minors—'

Sirius felt anger rise up inside of him and, before he knew it, he bit out, 'And _I_ suggest that the Ministry be charged with kidnapping me. How about that?'

Umbridge drew herself up and said, 'Mr Black, I—'

Amelia made a single bang with her wand and said, 'No one will be charged with anything, Madam Umbridge. It wasn't Mr Black's intention to assist in the murder of the Potters in any way, and Pettigrew was legally dead when the only known occurrence of attempted murder happened.'

'But what about when Black tracked Mr Pettigrew down—'

'Mr Black never said it was his intention to kill him. Did you, Mr Black?'

'No, I did not.'

'There. As for the last two charges that you mentioned, damaging of an old artefact warrants a fine at most, and we have no concrete proof that Mr Black ever did anything to Potter or Granger. And the penalty for being an unregistered Animagus is 3 years in Azkaban. I think Mr Black more than served his punishment, wouldn't you agree?'

Umbridge continued smiling sweetly, but Sirius could see that she was angry, and so, despite himself, he stuck his tongue out at her. Fudge, who had been seething quietly for the past few minutes, spluttered, 'I object!'

'The court recognises Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic.'

'I demand that Black be made to pay!'

Amelia's gaze could have frozen water.

'And on what grounds, Minister Fudge? What has Mr Black done to, as you put it, "be made to pay"?'

Fudge continued spluttering, but wasn't able to come up with anything, and so Amelia let out another bang with her wand and said in a steely voice, 'Any more _objections?'_

All the members shook their heads, and at last, Sirius could stand up and immediately embrace Remus, who had finally gotten through the horde of reporters. As he held onto his best friend, it finally hit him. He was exonerated. Free. He no longer had to hide. No more being locked up in Grimmauld Place, worrying about being given the Kiss each time he so much as went out to stand in the garden — it was all over. A thin film of water passed over his eyes momentarily, but it was immediately gone. He was so happy he could only smile as he said, 'I'm free.'

Remus pulled out of the hug and said, 'Yes. You're free,' an ear-splitting smile coming onto his face as well.

'I'm free,' Sirius repeated. Remus smile slid only a little to the right to form a smirk.

'You're free, Sirius.'

Sirius looked around and realised that the reporters had been shooed away and members were making their way down and out the chamber. He made to walk out, but was stopped by Amelia, who immediately dropped all pretence of formality and hugged him warmly.

'Sirius.'

'Amelia.'

They'd gotten to know each other back when they'd both been Aurors, and had formed a weird sort of friendship that had broken apart once Sirius had been imprisoned. Hopefully, they'd be able to pick up where they left off.

'I'm so happy to hear that you're innocent. I never really believed it was you anyway, but I always thought you'd been given a trial, you know?'

'Yeah, I know,' Sirius answered with a smile, 'I don't blame you.'

'So will you be joining us again? I quite missed your jokes mid-battle.'

After thinking about it for a moment, Sirius answered, 'Nah, I think I'm good. I'm not sure I want anything to do with the Ministry, and besides, I think I've had enough fighting to last me a lifetime.'

'I understand.' Sending a scowl at Fudge and Umbridge, who were arguing about something under a silencing ward, she added, 'I tried to get them to give you reparations, but they insisted on simply issuing a _formal apology_ instead.'

Her scoff of derision made it clear what she thought about the two corrupt bureaucrats.

'Well, the Blacks are filthy rich as it is. I could live the rest of my life without working if I wanted to, and my vault would continue to fill up anyway. Besides,' he added with a dark look, 'no reparations could give me back the twelve years I spent in that vile place. Say, do you know what happened to my wand? The one I have works fine, but I'd like my old one back.'

Amelia shook her head.

'They snapped it on scene.' She touched his shoulder and said, making a face, 'Well, I have to go do the paperwork now. Can we stay in contact? Meet up for coffee someday, maybe?'

'Sure.'

Sirius watched Amelia leave with a smile on his face. It was always good to meet an old friend. Remus nudged him and said with a smirk, 'Well, someone looks even happier.'

Sirius swatted at him. 'You know perfectly well that I'm aro.'

'Not like it prevents me from teasing you, does it?'

Sirius snorted and was about to tell Remus where to go when a very hated voice called out, 'Mr Black?'

He groaned and made his way over to Fudge.

'What do you want?'

'Mr Black, on behalf of the Ministry, I want to apologise for the damage done. If you ever need anything, you need only—'

'Save it. I don't need you to kiss my arse.'

With that, Sirius turned on his heel and left the courtroom, still grinning like a fool.

...

Finally, they had fought off the reporters and Apparated on the top step of Grimmauld Place. Sirius went to turn the doorknob, but stopped suddenly and said, 'Hey, Remus?'

'Sirius?' Seeing his smirk, Remus groaned. 'What stupid idea has that mind of yours produced now?'

'How about you walk in first—'

'What in the—'

'—and not say anything.'

'That's evil, Sirius. Making them think that you didn't get off? That's just sadism.'

'Well, technically, you won't be telling them anything.'

Remus shook his head, muttering, 'You evil old dog,' but pushed him away from the door and opened it as Sirius quickly transformed into a dog and hid out of sight. Peeking out from behind the door, Sirius watched Remus shake his head at the eager teenagers and go upstairs, a sad look plastered onto his face that only he knew to be fake, watched the girls start crying, watched Ron and the twins look down, watched Harry swear under his breath and kick the wall—

He bounded into the room, tail wagging, and crashed into Harry, licking him all over his face.

'Wha–? I – gerroff, you – why, you – you stupid old mutt!'

Sirius transformed back into a human and was immediately crashed into. The others eventually let go, but Harry still clung to him. Finally, he raised his head and asked, 'Does this mean what I think it means?'

Feeling his grin widen, Sirius answered, 'Depends on what you think it is.'

'You're free – because you _are_ free, right? Please tell me you didn't have to use that ridiculous plan of yours – so I can come live with you?'

A part of Sirius had been afraid that Harry would change his mind, that he wouldn't want to live with him, but that part promptly died, and if Sirius could grin any wider, he definitely would.

Remus came back down then, and Sirius joined him in running away from the teens, who, now that they'd gotten over the shock, decided that it was a good time for payback.

...

Naturally, Molly had thrown a feast the likes of which Sirius had only seen in Hogwarts, and for this evening, the two adults had even forgotten their animosity in favour of having fun.

Sirius only worried that it wouldn't last, that he'd go to sleep and wake up feeling like he usually did, because Merlin knew, he never wanted this party and the warm and fuzzy feeling inside of him to end. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, and suddenly the party and the cake didn't feel so nice anymore.

But then Harry approached him, and so he tried his best to push the thoughts to the back of his mind and enjoy the party as he focused on his grinning godson.

'So, you're free.'

'I'm free.'

It felt like the phrase was never going to get old.

'It's still hard to believe it, you know. Like, I'd known you're innocent, of course, but just...'

Harry trailed off and Sirius supplied, 'Hard to picture me as a stuffy, law-abiding grown-up?'

Harry laughed, but nodded. 'Yeah. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I thought you wouldn't get off, it's just – I'd always imagined you were going to stay like – like this – you know, showing everyone the finger and all that.'

'You mean being a rebel with a disregard for authority?'

'Yeah.'

Sirius laughed.

'Don't worry, I won't become a boring "responsible adult",' he said, making a face at the last two words. 'I'll always be the Sirius you know and love.'

Harry grinned and an idea came to Sirius' mind. 'Say, how about we go shopping tomorrow? Just us?'

'Shopping?' Harry made a face.

'Well, yeah. I need to get some clothes that aren't the ones I wore as a teen or my father's, as well as a few other things, and I'm sure you need to get something as well, and there's no way I'm letting you wear Dudley's cast-offs until you graduate, so – er – yeah. I understand if you don't want to, of course—'

Now he felt stupid for ever suggesting it.

But Harry brightened and said, 'Sure!' and Sirius sighed in relief.

That night, he slept without nightmares for the first time in a while.

...

The very next day, Remus woke up with Umbridge's hair replacing his own. No matter what he did, it wouldn't go away. In Sirius opinion, the green bow with yellow stripes that he also couldn't get off complimented him rather well.

In Harry's opinion, the Dumbledore-esque beards both men were sporting the day after that took the cake.

...

Sirius sat on the floor, surrounded by various trinkets and rubbish, as well as clothes and sheets that he and Harry had bought the day before. Since he couldn't go out until his beard disappeared (which would happen whenever Harry wanted it to happen, even though Sirius could easily remove his if he wanted to), he decided that he might as well clean out Regulus' old room in case Harry wanted his own room for the duration of their stay here; obviously, they'd move out as soon as Sirius managed to secure a new house.

With a sigh, he pushed his beard out of the way – how Dumbledore lived with his every day, he had no idea – and pulled another box out from under the bed. So far, he'd found loads of letters, newspaper clippings and other such testaments to his idiot brother's obsession with the Death Eaters. Bitterly, he reflected that perhaps if he hadn't been so cold to Regulus, maybe the latter wouldn't have joined Voldemort.

Sirius opened the box, fully expecting to see another pile of useless rubbish, but was met with nothing but a single piece of parchment — a letter, apparently. Intrigued, he opened it and read;

_To whoever finds this,_

_I must be crazy, writing to myself minutes before I walk to my death, but I just need to get it out._

_I don't believe in blood purity anymore. Or any of the nonsense my parents are spouting even now. And I no longer want to be a Death Eater. It is clear to me now how wrong I was._

Already, Sirius had to put down the letter in shock. So Regulus had indeed changed? What had brought this change on? An ache settled in his chest. He should have been there for his brother. He shouldn't have pushed him away. He should have done something, anything else.

Sirius pulled himself together; only a few lines in and he was already hating himself. There'd be time for that later. Right now, he had to finish reading the letter, which very likely held the secret of Regulus' death.

_I don't have much time, so I won't explain what brought this on. Just know that I'm not the person I used to be._

_You're likely wondering what I meant when I talked about death._ _Well, the Dark Lord made Horcruxes. Based on the way he always goes on about the number 7, I have reason to believe that he has 6, the 7th being the piece of soul inside his body. And I will be dying to retrieve one of them._

As the letter progressed, Regulus' handwriting got worse and worse and his sentences became more and more disjointed.

_How did I find out where it is, you ask? I won't go into detail, but he required Kreacher's assistance with securing it. He expected Kreacher to die, but Kreacher came out alive and told me where the Horcrux was. And now, I will go to that place and die to retrieve the Horcrux myself._

_Kreacher will have the Horcrux. Hopefully, he will find a way to destroy it. I have forbidden him to speak of this to my family unless they ask him first, as I don't want my mother or Bella running straight to Voldemort._

_Farewell,_

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

Shocked, Sirius lowered the letter, barely aware that he was shaking. This explained so, so much! Being a Black, he knew all about Horcruxes and what vile things they were, and if Voldemort had made six of them...it explained how he was still alive and why he appeared to be insane.

But his brother! Little, weak, cowardly Regulus, always doing what he was told, never standing up for Sirius — little Regulus, dying to help stop Voldemort, dying like a hero.

Sirius felt his throat constrict and crumpled the parchment in his hand, and had it not been for Horcruxes being highly secret information, he would have gone to the Ministry and told them everything and made sure that his late brother would get an Order of Merlin. Still, even if he couldn't tell anyone, he wouldn't let Regulus' sacrifice be for naught. No, he'd live in the Black library, if it meant that his little brother would be avenged.

And the first step to that would be to find out if the Horcrux was still alive. Squeezing his eyes shut, he muttered, 'Reg, you fucking _idiot,_ ' knowing that, in reality, it was himself he was calling an idiot, and then opened his eyes and called out, 'Kreacher!'

With a loud crack, Kreacher appeared in the room, eyeing Sirius hatefully.

'What does filthy blood-traitor Master want?'

Ignoring Kreacher's usual insults, Sirius said sharply, 'Kreacher, where is the Horcrux?'

The elf's eyes widened almost comically, and it appeared to be trying to stay silent, but eventually their bond did its work and Kreacher muttered, 'Kreacher does not have it.'

'Then where is it?'

'Blood-traitor woman took it.'

 _'Molly?'_ Sirius couldn't imagine prudish, strongly Light-oriented Molly taking anything even remotely Dark, never mind something as evil as a soul piece. 'Why would she want it? And what is it, anyway?'

'Kreacher does not know why blood-traitor woman wants it, and it is a locket.'

Sirius swore under his breath and asked, 'How did she get it?'

'Kreacher tried to stop blood-traitor woman, but blood-traitor woman cursed Kreacher.'

Having heard enough, Sirius thundered down the stairs, barely aware of what he was doing. That woman had stolen the thing which his brother had died for! He reached the living room and slammed the door open, seething. He marched right up to Molly and stared at her chest, and, sure enough, the locket was there, the chain wedged tightly between her breasts. Sirius wrinkled his nose and decided that he would perform the strongest Cleaning Charm he knew on it as soon as he got it.

Molly, meanwhile, put a hand on her chest and gasped, stumbling back, 'Sirius! Why, I never – how – that is so _rude!_ Staring at a woman like that – and a married one, too—'

Sirius gritted his teeth and bit out, 'Give – me – the – locket. Now.'

'What locket – oh, you mean this?' She tore the locket off her head and threw it at him. 'Here, have your locket. It's ugly, anyway.'

Still seething, Sirius snatched it from her grasp and said, 'Leave.'

'What?'

'I said, leave. You have ten minutes to pack, and then you leave this house. And take your children with you, too, I don't want any letters of yours in this house either.'

Molly looked shocked for a moment, but then crossed her arms defiantly and said, 'You can't kick us out. Dumbledore will never allow it.'

Sirius couldn't believe the audacity of that woman.

'Oh, really? Well, guess what,' his voice took on a dangerous tone, 'I don't care what Dumbledore says. Now, go.'

Clearly, Molly wanted to argue more, but she seemed to sense how angry Sirius was, and so she stomped out of the room, slamming the door as loudly as she could. Sirius took a deep, shuddering breath and felt his anger dissipate as he stared down at the locket. Was a piece of Voldemort's soul really worth yelling at his godson's best friend's mother?

 _She was being a bitch,_ he reminded himself then, and took vicious pleasure in casting a Vanishing Charm on the locket, not being surprised when only the dirt and grime of decades disappeared, the locket staying on his hand. He surveyed it, revolted, practically _feeling_ the Dark Magic oozing from it. It was almost hard to believe that this was one of the keys to Voldemort's death — and that his _brother_ had been the one to take it.

Yes, this locket was very important – not only as a Horcrux, but also as the cause of Regulus' death – which meant that he had to keep it safe. With a determined scowl, Sirius raised it and threw it over his head, sighing in irritation when the beard got in the way. It was Dark, yes, but it hadn't injured him at all when he'd been holding it, and Molly had worn it and seemed to be perfectly fine, so what could go wrong?

He groaned as he realised that he and Harry would now have to stay in Grimmauld Place; the library there was just too useful to give up easy access to. Well, maybe they'd at least manage to liven the place up.

He sighed and walked out of the living room, passing various Weasley children who were packing frantically on the staircase and coming face-to-face with Harry, who immediately asked, 'Sirius? What is going on? What did the Weasleys do?'

'It's their mother, she stole from me,' said Sirius, moving his beard to the side and pointing to the locket on his chest.

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Since when do you like lockets that have 'S' carved into them and are full of Dark Magic?'

'It's – I'll explain to you later, okay? Just know that the locket is very important. My brother died to retrieve it.'

Harry's eyes widened and he mumbled, 'That's – er – condolences. You don't have to tell me—'

'No, it's important, I don't think you should be kept in the dark.'

Harry's eyes widened further and he nodded and was about to walk away, but stopped and asked, 'Is Hermione staying?'

'If she wants to, sure.'

With that, Sirius finished the rest of the walk to his room and collapsed on his bed, feeling more drained than he had in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: self-harm, one minor suicidal thought.
> 
> I'll be updating the other chapters to have such warnings around the time I upload this one, so that you're not bombed by fake updates.
> 
> Sorry for the delay. I had this finished around two weeks ago, but I was in a place with no internet, so I couldn't upload it.
> 
> Apologies for the short chapter, but I wanted Hogwarts to start on a new chapter. Well, at least, now you know what to expect from the fourth chapter.

'Horcruxes. A Horcrux is an object in which someone hides part of their soul, so that if they die, that piece of soul keeps them tethered to this world.'

Harry, sitting on Sirius' bed while the latter sat on a chair, listened attentively. So far, Sirius had told him that the locket he was currently wearing was a Horcrux and that Regulus Black had died to retrieve it, but he hadn't told him what it was or why it was so important until now.

'How does one make a Horcrux?'

'Murder. An act of murder rips the soul apart.'

'But who would kill someone just to prolong their own life?'

Sirius' eyes darkened and took on a particularly meaningful look.

'Think, Harry. Surely, you know of someone who would do something like that?'

Harry was confused for a moment, but then it dawned on him.

'Voldemort,' he breathed. 'You mean, Voldemort's made one?'

'Not one,' Sirius corrected. 'Six.'

Harry felt his heart sink. They had to find six Horcruxes if they wanted to have any chance of defeating Voldemort. How in the hell were they going to ever do that?

He voiced his thoughts and Sirius frowned, as though he hadn't thought of that, and then answered, 'I don't know, but we have to try. Voldemort sounds like the type of guy to collect trophies and such, though, so I doubt he would have stored his soul in an ordinary pebble or something, even though that's the logical thing to do.'

'So how does one destroy a Horcrux, then?'

'The book I read says that in order to destroy a Horcrux, you need to permanently damage the container, so that it can't be fixed with magic. So we have a few options that I know of: Fiendfyre, a Dark ritual, but that'd probably involve a human sacrifice,' both Harry and Sirius shuddered, 'and basilisk venom.'

'Basilisk venom?'

'Yes, why – oh, please, tell me you don't just randomly have a stash of basilisk venom somewhere.'

Harry grinned and replied, 'I can get fangs for you once I'm at Hogwarts. I haven't gone down into the Chamber again, but I'm pretty sure the corpse is still there.'

'You – I –,' Sirius shook his head and grinned as well, 'you're amazing, you know?'

'I have my moments,' said Harry, his smile becoming somewhat smug. It faltered as he brought the topic of the conversation back to Horcruxes, asking, 'So, what do you know so far?'

'Not much,' Sirius confessed. 'Only that Voldemort used to be called Tom Marvolo Riddle, is the son of Merope Gaunt and a Muggle named Tom Riddle Sr, lived in an orphanage in London and worked in Borgin & Burke's when he got out of school. Nothing too useful so far.'

Harry felt the rest of his smile disappear and tried to think of something Hermione would ask.

'What are the limitations of making a Horcrux? Maybe we can narrow it down this way. For example, can a Horcrux be made out of an animal?'

'Yeah, it can. Then the being can be possessed by the human without dying shortly after the possession ends. That way isn't very smart, though, because the being can simply be killed by anyone, and then the Horcrux will be destroyed.'

'And does Voldemort have any pets?'

'Not that I know of. He likes snakes a lot, though, so he might have one. I'll look out for it.'

Harry nodded and took a minute to formulate another question, as it seemed that Sirius couldn't think of what else to say.

'What if a Horcrux was made out of a human?'

'Well, I haven't heard of that happening, but I'd imagine they'd be connected to the Horcrux-maker in some way, like being able to—'

Sirius broke off and, unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, went quite a bit pale. Harry chalked it up to the lighting, however, and went on to ask another question.

…

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Fuck.

Any other swear word would have been applicable to this situation, but Sirius could only think of those two off the top of his head.

The point was, it was terrible.

Harry was a Horcrux. An actual Horcrux. Which meant that he'd have to die in order for Voldemort's death to be possible.

Unless Sirius thought of a better way, of course. And damn him if he wouldn't keep on trying until he did. He'd wrap Harry in cotton wool and ship him off to a remote African village until they both died of old age if it came to that. Heck, he'd be the human sacrifice if nothing else worked. But he wouldn't let Harry be killed, whether by Voldemort or someone else who knew of the Horcruxes.

Maybe it was selfish of him, to be willing to risk the whole of Magical Britain to ensure Harry lived – no, scratch that, it definitely was. But how could he live with himself if he led Harry to his death?

A new thought came to Sirius' mind then, one that scared him. What if he wasn't afraid for Harry, but afraid of failing James and Lily – failing _himself_ – instead? Was he really that…that…that _bad_ as a person? Sirius didn't trust himself to not be. He'd fucked up too much to not consider the possibility.

'Sirius?'

'What?' Harry's face came into focus again, and Sirius cursed himself for getting lost in his thoughts and forgetting to answer his godson's questions.

Unconsciously, his eyes slid to Harry's scar. So this was where that bastard had made his child a Horcrux. That absolute _bastard._

Harry lifted a hand to touch his scar, his brow raised in a silent inquiry, and Sirius shook his head. No matter how fucked up he was by his recent discovery – what was he doing, thinking about himself? How fucked up _Harry_ was – he couldn't afford to let Harry know that he was hiding something, because then the former would get angry, do everything in his power to find out what it was, put two and two together – all in all, he'd know by the time the summer ended. And Sirius couldn't have that, as guilty as he felt for keeping such important information from his godson.

'Nothing, Harry. Now, you were saying?'

Harry shifted in his seat. 'You'll take me with you when you have a new lead, right?'

'No,' Sirius replied evenly, 'Why would I do that?'

He knew what the answer would be perfectly well, but he needed Harry to realise that just because he told him more than any other adult did, he wasn't going to treat him as a fully fledged adult, because he knew nowhere near as much as an adult did, if only in terms of magic.

'Because – because I have a right to –'

'A right to what?'

'A right to fight Voldemort!'

'I thought you didn't want to fight Voldemort any longer? I didn't know you were the type to seek heroics.'

Harry went red. Sirius would have liked nothing more than to apologise, but he had to be a responsible adult for this – even if he was anything but.

'It's not about that – do you think I give a – I don't care about heroics or some such! I just can't stand it – sitting here and doing nothing while you –'

'I know, Harry,' Sirius cut across him. 'But you have to understand that this is too dangerous. It's not about prolonging your childhood or anything. Voldemort, no matter how much we all hate him, is a very powerful wizard. The traps he's made to secure his Horcruxes are deadly.'

'But –'

'My brother died to secure one of them,' said Sirius quietly. 'I don't want to lose you too.'

Harry's blush returned in full force and he uttered, 'I'm sorry – I shouldn't have –'

Sirius waved him away. 'No need. Any other questions?'

Harry shook his head, and Sirius almost sighed in relief. 'Well, then, I think I'm going to go up to the library to work on the Horcruxes some more.'

'You'll tell me when you find something new, won't you?'

'Of course, Harry,' Sirius lied, 'Of course.'

…

Harry walked to his room, mulling over the information Sirius had given him. So caught up in his thoughts he was that he almost crashed into Hermione, who had come out on the landing when she'd heard him coming.

'Harry!'

'Hermione!' Harry gasped. 'What are you doing here?'

'What are _you_ doing, scaring me like that?' At Harry's incredulous look, Hermione burst out laughing. 'Oh, Harry, you're so gullible. And, to answer your question, I was waiting for you. I thought you might want to study to distract yourself from whatever it is Sirius told you.'

Harry laughed and shook his head as he walked into the room. 'You know me too well.' Seeing the seemingly endless pile of parchment strewn over his and Ron's beds and the table near the far wall, he said jokingly, 'Oh, dear, Hermione, please tell me you haven't finished the Hogwarts course and the first year of Auror training in a single afternoon.'

Hermione shook her head with a smile and sat back down at Harry's bed, where, judging by an indentation in the covers, she'd been sitting before. Harry looked at her and, before he knew it, said, 'I think I'm ready.'

Hermione raised her head and fixed her eyes on Harry.

'To tell me.'

It was not a question. Harry nodded and continued, knowing that Hermione would be listening, 'There's a prophecy…about me. Well, me and someone else, I don't think I should tell you who it is. Anyway, the prophecy said that –'

'That you'd have to face Voldemort.' Again, it was a statement, and Hermione didn't seem to be too surprised. Apparently, Harry'd been correct in assuming that she'd figure it out.

He nodded. After a moment of silence, Hermione said, 'Well, I've always thought prophecies are a load of wool – but Voldemort wants to kill you anyway, so I suppose it would not make much of a difference – you'd keep on running from him anyway.' She shook her head vigorously, her hair bouncing around her, and said, a hint of fear in her voice, 'I wish you didn't have to.'

'I'll be all right, Hermione.'

Looking at Hermione, Harry made a split-second decision and blurted out, 'Voldemort's made Horcruxes. And Sirius is working on destroying them all.'

'Horcruxes?'

'They're pieces of soul stored in objects, and – well – damn it – Sirius explained it better than I did. But they prevent you from dying as long as you have one of them. And you need to kill someone to make one.'

'But Voldemort's killed thousands! What's to stop him from making a thousand Horcruxes?'

'Sirius said that splitting your soul too many times can kill you or drive you insane, which has happened to Voldemort already, even though he's made only six. And, since each time you make a Horcrux you're cutting off half from your existing soul piece, that means Voldemort has only 1/128 of his original soul.'

Hermione mumbled under her breath for a minute, then frowned and said, 'But that's mathematically incorrect. If he had seven, yeah, sure, but at six, he should have 1/64. And how do you know that he's made six? For that matter, how do you even know that Voldemort made Horcruxes?'

Harry shrugged. 'Sirius said so, maybe he made a mistake. As for your two questions, I don't think it's my place to tell you. Rest assured, we know for a fact that those two things are true.'

'If you say so.' Hermione then went on to ask, 'What's he letting you do to help?'

'Letting?'

She fixed him with a look. 'Come on, Harry. I know that you wanted to charge out in the open to hunt for these Horcruxes once you found out.'

'Again, you know me too well. Yeah, that was my exact reaction,' Harry confessed with a sheepish smile, 'but Sirius talked me straight.' He went slightly red at the reminder of his faux-pas in that conversation. He'd been really insensitive. 'Well, anyway, he's basically told me to just live my life and that he'll tell me whenever he finds out something new. I don't like it,' he added darkly, 'but I understand, I think.'

'He just wants to protect you.'

'Yeah,' Harry echoed, 'he just wants to protect me.'

…

'So, if we just –'

'Wouldn't it be better to go in from the left?' Sirius interrupted Kingsley, who was giving his report to the Order, 'I mean, the right side has all these – er – well, you know what I'm talking about, and there's only a set of doors on the left side. So, technically…' he trailed off as he realised the flaw in his theory and looked at the table determinedly as all sets of eyes focused on him. 'Sorry. Carry on.'

Before Kingsley could continue, Snape said silkily, 'I'd imagine Black's feeling restless, what with being useless, even as a free man.'

Sirius gritted his teeth and bit out, 'Shut the fuck up, Snivelly.'

'Sirius! Language!' Minerva admonished, but she was sending a dirty look at Snape, and Sirius felt a surge of affection for his Transfiguration professor.

'Oh, but, of course, Black,' Snape continued in that same silky tone, 'It's not your fault you missed the last Order meeting. After all, how were you supposed to know that Albus was handing out duty then and wouldn't be back until next week? You probably had better and more important things to do.'

The insult in that would have been clear even if it weren't Snape saying it. _I'm doing much more than you will ever do in ten lifetimes, you stuck-up, snot nosed bitch,_ thought Sirius and shot back, 'Like you're very useful, moping about how your _one true love_ is –'

It was low, he knew, but he still felt a bitter sense of satisfaction when Snape whipped out his wand and fired off a curse which only missed him by a hair's breadth. Other members of the Order gasped and scrambled to move out of the way; some tried to stop them.

'You think you're so above everyone, Black,' hissed Snape, his voice raised just so, 'just because you _accidentally_ killed your idiot of a best friend –'

Sirius saw red.

The next moment was a blur; all Sirius could remember was curses flying and people yelling; but, next thing he knew, he and Snape were standing out in the corridor, Snape's hair badly singed and Sirius' nose bleeding, and a voice was telling them, 'Come back when you've sorted yourselves out!'

Snape glared at Sirius and swept past him into the kitchen, looking remarkably like an overgrown bat. Sirius had the temptation to call out, 'You started it!' or remind him that it was his kitchen and his house, but he resisted it.

He was dabbing at his nose with a cloth, waiting until the bleeding stopped before he could properly mend it, when Remus came out of the meeting room. The latter took one look at him, sighed and whipped out his wand.

' _Episkey,_ ' he said, and Sirius gasped as his nose fixed itself with a snap.

'Why didn't I know of this spell before?'

'It was invented while you were in Azkaban. I guess no one bothered to tell you,' Remus answered, and then his gaze turned serious. 'I'll help you.'

'No,' said Sirius firmly. 'Don't. I don't want you to waste all of your time in here as well. Me, I need to lie low for the next few months anyway because of the public, I have time. You still have to work,' why he wouldn't accept Sirius' offer of help was beyond him, 'and you're part of the recruitment team. Dumbledore and the others will become suspicious if you spend all of your time in here instead.'

The two friends traded smiles as they remembered the rumour about them being together that had risen in fifth year. At the time, Sirius had stormed into their dorm, ranting about how just because he was single, didn't mean he was _gay,_ and how their friendship was much better than any romance; but now, he just thought it was funny how stupid people could be.

Remus then sobered and said, 'You can't do this alone, Sirius.'

'Yes, I can. I can do it alone, and you can vouch for me when the Order starts asking questions.'

'Sirius, you do realise that you're basically trying to defeat Voldemort on your own here? There's no way you can do it alone. You need to tell the Order, tell Dumbledore –'

'Remus, please. The Order can deal with the Death Eaters, I'll do this.'

Sirius felt a headache coming on. He'd have liked nothing more than to leave and take a good nap. Suddenly, the Horcrux around his neck seemed too heavy.

'And how do you know that you're going to succeed? What if someone in the Order has information that you need, but you don't know it because you won't tell anyone?'

'The less people know, the better. You remember what happened last time we trusted the whole Order.'

Both men winced.

'Well, if not the Order, then Dumbledore! Why can't you tell him?'

_He'd find out about Harry and try to get him killed._

'I'm pretty sure he knows about the Horcruxes already.'

The headache was becoming unbearable.

'Then go to him with your findings! I'm sure he doesn't know about the locket, so if you'd just –'

Sirius felt a surge of irritation and snapped, 'No. I'm not telling anyone, and that's final.'

He turned on his heel and made his way up the stairs, trying his best not to look down at Remus.

…

Sirius stumbled into the bathroom, even though he would have liked nothing more than to stay in bed. Lately, waking up, showering and other such necessities had been harder than they usually were.

He sighed as he began to comb through his hair, blinking blearily, and gasped when he saw his forehead. On it was a piece of paper, the words _"That's for growling at me. Bad dog."_ written on it.

Recognising the handwriting, he stormed downstairs and burst into Remus' room, throwing the covers off of him and yelling, 'Get it off me!'

Remus sat up, rubbing his eyes, and then spotted Sirius. For a moment, his eyes were drawn to Sirius' chest ( _Merlin, please don't let the rumours from fifth year be true,_ thought Sirius), then his features settled into a determined scowl and he said coldly, 'You're still being a bad dog. Get it off yourself.'

Sirius threw his hands up and stormed back to his room, slamming the door loudly, only acknowledging in his head that this was the sort of trick he usually would have found hilarious, so what if there was something wrong with him?

…

'Pass me the bacon, Harry?'

'Sure, Hermione.'

Harry passed Hermione the platter and watched with a smile as she piled almost all of what was left on her plate. Beside him, Remus chuckled.

'Like my bacon?' he asked, smirking.

'Omf couf,' Hermione choked out through a mouthful of bacon, and Harry mock-gasped, 'Oh, no! I've gotten Hermione to speak with her mouth full! Whatever shall we do?'

Hermione swallowed and sighed happily.

'I swear, Harry, your bacon's better than the bacon at Hogwarts.'

At that moment, Sirius stumbled into the room, his clothes rumpled and his hair only half-heartedly combed. Harry couldn't help but notice that Remus' expression immediately became strangely empty. Had something happened between the two?

'Why'd you cook? I would have made something.'

Remus snorted and muttered, 'Yeah, sure, you would have made us all an excellent early lunch.'

Harry's eyes were drawn to the dark bags under his godfather's eyes, and then to the locket sitting proudly on his chest. Sirius had been becoming increasingly snappy with them all lately, and he had to wonder if there was a problem with the Horcrux hunting.

'Sirius, are you okay?' he asked.

''Course I am, why'd you ask?'

_And if that wasn't the reply of every single not-okay person, I'll eat my wand._

'You just look so – well – are you _sure_ you're okay?'

_'Just eat your damn breakfast!'_

…

Those eyes. The angry expression.

He'd snapped at Harry again.

What was wrong with him? Why did he keep on acting so…so bitchy? So like his mother?

Sirius started to walk over to his desk, but tripped over an old text book and skidded across the room, crashing into his bed.

'Fuck!'

He raised his foot to get a better look at where the as of yet unidentified object had hit him, cursing again as he saw that he was bleeding. What could even cut him this deep? It wasn't as if he had many sharp objects just lying around in his room, no matter how messy it may be.

He bent down to look under his bed and froze when he saw it: a knife, wedged tightly between two floorboards. His knife, to be exact. The knife he'd used to cut himself. Sirius reached out and, with some effort, plucked it out of the hole it'd fallen into.

He sat back down on the bed and turned the knife over in his hands, memories of sitting there in the dead of night and cutting himself with a lump of frustration in his throat rushing back to him. He then rolled up his left sleeve and examined his cuts. There was the first one that had left a scar…and if he looked closely, he could just barely see his very first ones, the ones that had been nothing more than scratches.

Suddenly, Sirius' hand, as though moving by its self, grabbed the knife and pierced the skin right in the middle of his forearm. He gasped in pain as one big bead of blood appeared and slid down his arm, followed by another. His breathing sped up.

Nineteen years. He'd been clean for nineteen years. One more year, and it would have been two decades. But no, he had to go and fuck it all up. And why?

Sirius had no idea what had possessed him to do it, but he continued slicing through his skin, cursing himself for doing it all the while. He was so weak, such a coward, a failure. He couldn't keep away from it. He'd let himself go. He was nothing. Maybe, the world would be better off without him…

The air was becoming hot and stuffy, the light was too bright, the blood on his forearm was splattering on his white sheets, and the locket around his neck was much too tight. Sirius pulled the locket off –

And suddenly, everything cleared. The dark mass that had been hanging above him lessened. The knife dropped to the floor. And Sirius stared numbly at his forearm, now littered with fresh cuts, wondering what on earth had just happened.

'Am I stupid?' he said out loud in the silence, for that was what he was. To wear a piece of Voldemort's soul around his neck was complete and utter stupidity. And to let it affect him enough to make him cut – it didn't matter if he'd been under the influence of a Horcrux, he'd just ruined nineteen years, one month and fifteen days of being clean.

'Fuck,' he said out loud again. Then, breaking out of his daze, Sirius sighed and waved his wand at his cuts, muttering the only wound healing spell he knew. He had an inkling that the new _Episkey_ one Remus had shown him might work, but didn't want to risk it. And, in any case, he'd spent three years cutting without knowing any healing spells and he'd been fine.

The spell only closed the cuts halfway, so Sirius summoned a bandage from his drawer (he'd kept those, just in case, even when he'd lost his knife) and wrapped it around his arm, wincing when blood immediately leaked through it.

That done, Sirius rolled his sleeve back down, making sure that nothing showed through, levitated his sheets off of his bed and, after a few seconds of thought, put his knife back in his drawer. _Just in case._

Sirius then grabbed the locket – now that he thought about it, he could feel himself becoming more hopeless just from holding it, – sighed determinedly and made his way downstairs, knowing what he had to do.

Luckily for him, all three other occupants of the house were in the drawing room, Harry and Hermione working on something, bent over a piece of parchment and a few textbooks, and Remus sitting on the couch, reading a book.

He cleared his throat and tensed when the three looked up, Remus' look the most expectant of them all.

'Hey, uh – er – I know I have been really bitchy with you these past few days – no need to make that face, Moony – and I'm sorry. You see, the locket –,' Sirius held it up, '– it's been affecting me badly.'

He squirmed as they continued to stare at him. Then Harry nodded slowly and said, making his way over to him, 'Yeah, a piece of Voldemort' soul would do that to you. Can I…?'

'Sure.'

Sirius passed the locket over to Harry, who touched it once and said immediately, 'Yeah, I can definitely sense it. And you've been wearing it for a few days – damn, Sirius – why did you –'

'Yeah, pretty stupid of me, I know.'

Remus walked up behind Harry, then, and extended his hand, 'May I?'

Harry gave him the locket rather gratefully and went back to his and Hermione's table, whispering something to her while shooting a glance at Sirius.

Remus, meanwhile, held the locket in his fingertips while staring intently at Sirius, who felt his body go cold when he realised that the former was sniffing the air, his nose moving ever so slightly. His terror must have showed on his face, because Remus said loudly, 'Padfoot, let's go out for a moment, shall we?'

Sirius nodded and let Remus pass before him. As soon as he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, he exploded, 'It wasn't me, I swear! Well, I mean – it was – but it was the locket – Remus – you have to understand –'

Remus held up a hand and said, 'Give me your arm.'

Sirius passed his arm over and watched as his friend rolled up the sleeve, took off the bandages and examined the cuts, shaking his head. After a moment, he looked up and said, 'Sirius, you're openly bleeding – you're so bad at Healing Spells, how they let you be an Auror, I'll never know – and you didn't think to tell someone?'

'You know how I am.'

'Indeed, I do,' Remus sighed and began drawing his wand over the cuts, healing them until white scars were all that was left. 'And if you had come straight to me, even these scars could have been avoided.'

Sirius pulled his hand back and said, 'Thank you, Remus,' as he rolled the sleeve back down and vanished the bloody bandages, which Remus was still holding. Remus only nodded and said, 'You're not going to wear the locket now, are you?'

''Course not. I'll keep it in one of my drawers.'

…

_Dear Sirius,_

_I know that things haven't been the best between us and I'm writing you to apologise for the way I acted. I truly don't know what came over me. Of course, the only person who has any parental right over Harry is you, and I had to right to say otherwise. All my insults to your person were unwarranted. Again, I'm sorry._

_To talk things over and maybe get rid of some of the of the dark atmosphere between us, how about we meet up in Diagon Alley on the 25th? That's when the children are going to be getting their supplies (unless the letters still_ _don't come by then), so it might be good for Harry and Hermione to meet up with Ron as well, since I'm sure they've missed each other._

_If you agree, we'll be in the Leaky Cauldron at around 12 o'clock._

_Please write back soon._

_Kind regards,_

_Molly_

Sirius put the letter down, looked up and said, 'Just as I suspected. The locket's affected her badly as well.'

Harry nodded and looked up from a similar apology letter. 'Yeah, she's apologised to me as well. Can we go? Please?'

''Course we can. The 25th…that's Friday. Yeah, we can definitely make it.'

Harry grinned and ran off, probably to write a letter to Ron. Sirius sighed and added the trip to Diagon Alley to his list of things to be nervous about.

…

Sirius sighed in irritation as he cast yet another Drying Charm at his socks. It was ten in the evening, and this was no less than the 28th puddle he'd stepped into today.

'I swear, Remus, when I find you, I'll –'

'You'll what?'

Sirius spun around and came face to face with his best – and likely only, if he was honest with himself – friend, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. He couldn't help but notice that Remus was wearing travelling robes and had a suitcase in one hand and his wand in the other.

'I'll…um…I'll curse you to always have a piece of Spellotape stuck to your heel, how's that?'

He'd expected Remus to look at least a little horrified at that threat, but the latter just continued grinning, though it was now a slightly sad smile, the cause of which he found out when Remus said, 'I'm leaving on a mission.'

'Mission? What mission?'

'To the werewolves. I'm to liaise with them and convince them not to join Voldemort.'

A million questions ran through Sirius' head, but he only asked the most prevalent, 'And why am I only just now finding out about this?'

'You mean no one told you? Dumbledore must have mentioned it at least a few times, and I know he talked about it at the meeting on the 14th.'

'The one I couldn't attend because Harry and I went shopping?' Sirius scowled and asked rhetorically, 'Why don't I ever get told anything?'

'Maybe, because you never pay attention?' Remus countered. His smile fading, he added, 'Come on, Sirius, don't vent your frustrations out on me. I'm leaving soon, let's not spend the last few minutes fighting over nothing.'

Sirius imagined his last words to Remus being his frustration over Dumbledore and the Order. 'You'll be all right, won't you?' he asked desperately.

''Course I will. Don't worry, Sirius, I'll be fine.'

Sirius attempted a smile and clapped Remus on the shoulder. 'Good luck, then. I – er – if anything – well – you're a great friend.'

He then surprised himself by pulling Remus into a hug (which was _totally_ manly, don't you start, Moony). It was awkward, because Sirius had never been one for physical contact, even before Azkaban, but it felt real even so.

'Come back,' he muttered. Remus patted him on the back, pulled out and smiled his usual reassuring smile. 'I'll be back, Padfoot.'

…

That very same day, at fifteen minutes to midnight, Sirius was still working in the library.

Or trying to to work, more like.

His search for a safe way for Harry to survive was at a standstill, so he'd resorted to looking for a ritual, even if it required a human sacrifice. But, so far, he hadn't found anything, even in the Black library.

He looked out the window, watching the almost-full moon. That reminded him of Remus and his mission – a mission he may very well not come back from.

Remus might die. Harry might die.

Harry might die.

Sirius' breath quickened.

His throat had something in it that felt like the knowledge that Harry might have to die – not by Sirius' hand, no, never, but he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to orchestrate his death if he knew – was finally sinking in.

How on earth was he going to save Harry when a week had passed and he still hadn't found anything even remotely useful? He was useless! Short of wrapping Harry up in cotton wool and portkeying him to the other side of the planet, there was absolutely nothing he could do. He'd checked over half of the Black library already, and the most he'd been able to come up with was detailed information on making a Horcrux.

Yes, he was well and truly fucked.

Harry would die and it'd all be his fault. Dumbledore would kill him, or set up an encounter with Voldemort – heck, Voldemort still seemed hell-bent on killing him, so he probably didn't know about the Horcrux either.

The point was that Harry would die.

Sirius had barely noticed his heart pounding in his chest, but now it felt as though it was a huge clock ticking off the days until Harry's death. Suddenly, the air seemed to be too heavy, and the library was stifling. Deep fear settled in his chest.

He was going to fail. They would all die.

Now Sirius was well and truly terrified; more terrified than usual. He grabbed a shelf to steady himself, his legs shaking, and tried to clear his head, which felt like it was going to fall off any second now. _We're going to be okay,_ he told himself. _We'll be fine. Harry'll live._

Not that it helped much. The fear was still there. But slowly, he felt his breathing go back to normal. Soon, the panic attack was over. Still, he couldn't bear to be in the library, so he went outside. Hopefully, the fresh air – well, as fresh as it could be in this hovel, anyway – would help.

'Sirius?'

Sirius jumped, turned around and came face-to-face with Harry, whom he could only barely see in the dark.

His still-not-completely-gone panic must have shown on his face, because Harry put a hand on his arm and said, 'Hey. You'll be okay. And Hermione and I can help. Just tell us what to do.'

Sirius nodded shakily – even if Harry was talking about something else, his reassurance was welcome – and asked, 'So, why are you up so late?'

Harry shrugged. 'Couldn't sleep.'

Sirius suspected something else – he knew that Harry had nightmares about Cedric Diggory's death more often than not – but he didn't comment, and said instead, 'As the responsible adult, I should tell you to go to sleep. As the cool godfather, though… You up for a Butterbeer or two?'

Harry grinned and said, 'Do you even have to ask?'

Once they were seated, and the Butterbeer served by a very disgruntled Kreacher (but without any of the usual muttering), Harry asked, 'So, how's the progress?'

Sirius almost said, 'Hopeless,' but caught himself at the last second, 'Well, I'm working on uncovering Voldemort's past. Like I said before, he likes collecting trophies, so his Horcruxes are bound to be very important items, which means that he'll hide them in places important to him. So far, I've only uncovered that the place in which he hid the locket was used by him to terrorise two children from his orphanage, but that doesn't help, obviously,' he sighed in frustration, 'And what about you?'

'Hermione suggested that I'd be better off training and practicing my magic instead of trying to help you with the Horcruxes, so I'm doing exactly that.' With a playful roll of his eyes, Harry added, 'Not like I have a choice, with the schedule she's already written up for both of us.'

Sirius laughed and listened to Harry describe what spells they were currently working on, doing his best to push the hopeless feeling inside of him away.

But whatever he did, it was still there. The knowledge that Harry would die, and that he couldn't do anything to stop it. That he'd failed him and his parents yet again.

…

The letters almost hadn't come. Harry had already started worrying that they wouldn't be able to go, but then they'd arrived this morning in the middle of breakfast.

He was reading through the book list when a squeal sounded next to him.

'Hermione? What's wrong? Have they told you that you'll only be attending Divination?'

Hermione shook her head mutely, still staring at her letter. Harry sighed and plucked it out of her hands, gasping when a metal badge fell out of it.

'Is that…?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, her voice quivering.

'Well, then, that's fantastic! Congratulations!'

He clapped his hands loudly, grabbed the badge and clumsily attached it to Hermione's still-frozen form, making sure to touch as little as possible. Because of his carefulness, the badge ended up right in the middle of Hermione's chest, and the girl sighed exasperatedly and reattached it to her left breast.

That seemed to break the tension, for Hermione gasped excitedly and gushed, 'I'm a prefect! I – I can't believe it – how –'

'Well, I'm sure every person except you was expecting it, Hermione,' said Harry with a smile.

'What about you, Harry? I'm sure you're the other prefect – I mean, who else can they pick? It's got to be you.'

Harry hastily unfolded the rest of his letter and shook the envelope for good measure, but nothing fell out. He spread his hands helplessly and said in a small voice, 'Guess not.'

For some reason, he felt cheated. Why hadn't Dumbledore picked him? Hadn't he earned enough points on their adventures? _Maybe the adventures are why he didn't pick you,_ said a nasty voice in his head. _Maybe he got tired of all the rule-breaking_.

But no, Dumbledore wouldn't. He wouldn't have given them points otherwise. No, it had to be something else. Something that had made Dumbledore decide that one of the other boys was better suited for the job.

But were the others really better than him? Was Ron, Neville, Dean or Seamus better than him?

Harry realised what he was feeling and froze in shame. Had he really just thought that? He sounded so much like Dudley. It was unacceptable.

At that moment, Sirius walked back into the dining room, a cup of coffee in his hand, muttering, 'Can't get that pathetic elf to do anything.' He stopped when he saw Hermione with her badge, and Harry, his hands on the table in front of him, staring into space, a dejected look on his face, and said, 'Let me guess. Hermione got her prefect badge, and Harry didn't get one?'

Harry shrugged, and a new fear rose. What if Sirius was disappointed in him? He'd never had an adult there to care about how he was doing before, but now…

To his surprise, Sirius slid back into his seat and grinned, 'Don't feel bad, Harry. Your father wasn't a prefect, either.'

Harry perked up. 'Really?'

'Oh, yes,' a faraway and wistful look came over Sirius' face, 'Moony was the prefect. I think Dumbledore made him one in the hope that he would be able to tame us. Well, let's just say, he failed miserably.'

Harry felt his mood rise and grinned.

'Nor was your mother,' Sirius continued. 'Both of them were Head Boy and Girl, though.'

That, of course, led into a discussion about _how on earth_ his father had been able to become Head Boy ('I tell you, the teachers did it to get them together,' said Sirius), which lasted until Hermione looked at her watch and shrieked, 'Oh, no! Five to twelve – we're going to be late!'

…

'Harry! Hermione!'

'Ron!'

The three friends greeted each other, Hermione drawing Harry and Ron into a group hug that squeezed the air out of them. They'd written each other, of course, but letters just weren't the same, especially seeing as the information they could put in them was severely limited.

Ron pulled out, grinned and said, 'Guess what?'

Hermione was the first to notice it – the badge shining on Ron's robes. She squealed and enveloped him in another hug, saying, 'Congratulations!'

Harry grinned and clapped Ron on the shoulder. 'Congrats, Ron.'

Ron, who'd just had the wind knocked out of him, said, 'Bloody hell, mate, I thought it'd be you, for sure!'

Harry shook his head. 'I've caused too much trouble. You deserve it.'

No matter how he'd been feeling in the morning, the smile on Ron's face was all worth it. The redhead then went on to ask, 'So, how was life at the Grim Old Place?'

They shared snickers at the joke, and Hermione, who'd pulled away from Ron, blushing, hid a chuckle with her hand while shooting furtive glances at Sirius. They didn't have to worry about him, though, as Harry was sure he'd have appreciated the joke.

'Fun. Studied a lot.' Harry then leant in and whispered, 'A lot happened, I'll tell you later.'

Ron nodded almost imperceptibly and said loudly, 'So, where to first?'

…

'Molly.'

'Sirius.'

The two adults stared at each other for a long moment, then Sirius broke the silence, grateful that the others had walked away to give them a little space, 'The locket you wore was cursed, so I understand.'

Molly nodded jerkily. Even with how little he knew the woman, Sirius could see that she was sorry. Still, the locket had picked him as her – or its – victim…

'It told me things,' Molly blurted out, 'terrible things. It said that – that you were cooler and better than I – that you were going to take my children away –'

'And so you lashed out at me,' Sirius finished for her, 'and tried to make me feel the same.'

For some reason, he felt the urge to laugh at the irony of their situation. But Molly was looking to be on the verge of tears, so he attempted a smile and said again, 'I understand. I wore it for a few days, too – and with me being already crazy –,' he managed to make her laugh at this, even though he wasn't fully kidding, '– well, you can imagine.'

Chuckling, Molly said, 'Yeah, I can imagine. How's the house, then? Not burned down, I hope?'

Sirius snorted and answered, 'No. But we did manage to explode a ghastly potted plant that was once a simple rose bush, so…' he trailed off, and Molly asked, still chuckling, 'How are Harry and Hermione?' Her face turned serious then. 'Are they still angry at me?'

'No. Harry forgave you almost as soon as he read the letter. I don't think he was even that angry in the first place, just confused.'

'Thank Merlin,' exhaled Molly. 'I'm just glad that I didn't lose him.'

Remembering her boggart (and his own), Sirius nodded. 'I understand.'

'I still don't approve of you telling him so much,' said Molly sternly, 'but he's your child.'

Sirius nodded again. 'And I understand why you're not telling them things, now…I think.'

'Yeah.' Almost desperately, she added, 'I just don't want them to have to grow up early. I wish this wasn't happening to them. They're much too young.'

'Yes…They are.'

…

_'Legilimens!'_

Harry held on for about a minute before memories began to flash before his eyes. He felt Sirius release the spell and fell to his knees with a grunt.

He and Hermione had been learning Occlumency for almost two weeks now, and it was _bloody difficult_. He had to meditate every night before bed, which was really hard with how disorganised his mind was, and the sessions themselves left him with headaches and dreams of long corridors that ended with a door. Sirius had told him that his mind would soon stop being so vulnerable, but he didn't think so.

At least his magic was indeed getting better and more controlled. In fact, the Severing Charm he'd cast yesterday had sliced cleanly through the parchment, and his Colour-Changing Charm had turned Sirius' hair a perfect Slytherin green (he'd told him he'd just missed, but it'd been on purpose, something which both Sirius and Harry knew perfectly well).

Beside him, Hermione, who was _much_ better at it, woke up from her meditative trance, having already advanced to the next step, which was to create a mindscape and sort through thoughts and memories.

'Well,' said Sirius, clapping his hands, 'good job to both of you. Harry, I think it's time for you to start sorting through your mind as well.'

'What? But I'm not good enough – Hermione's loads better –'

'Hermione also has a naturally much more organised mind,' said Sirius, cutting Harry off. 'You've advanced quite well for someone with a mind like yours. Besides, I won't be able to do Legilimency on you once we're in Hogwarts, so you'll have to meditate there, anyway.'

'Will we be able to continue, then?' asked Hermione, and then immediately answered her question herself, which had Sirius and Harry smirking, 'But then we'd have to have a device able to make video calls, but, to my knowledge, wizards don't have any such device…'

'Well, a device like that won't help, anyway, 'cause there's not much we could do, even if we had one…But that reminds me,' Sirius started rummaging through his drawers, throwing out quite a bit of rubbish, before apparently finally finding what he was looking for, seeing as he didn't immediately throw it away – a pair of mirrors.

He passed one to Harry, who turned it over in his hands and raised his eyebrow in a silent inquiry.

'A – what'd you call it? – video calling device,' Sirius explained. 'Like I said before, it won't help with Occlumency, but it will enable us to talk to each other. The one you're currently holding is your father's. We used them when we were in separate detentions.'

Harry looked at the mirror again, and this time, he could see fingerprints where his father had held it. He imagined a young James Potter holding the mirror and talking to a similarly young Sirius Black while scrubbing cauldrons and smiled, fingering another of his father's possessions reverently.

He looked up and asked eagerly, 'So, how does it work?'

Sirius grinned and said, 'Just say my name.'

Harry brought the mirror close to his face and said in a clear voice, 'Sirius whatever-your-middle-name-is Black.'

The mirror flickered and suddenly, he could see Sirius' chest, chin and hair from where the latter was holding it in his lap. The chin moved as he said, a grimace in his voice, 'Sirius Cepheus Hydrus Black. My mother had a flair for the dramatic and Mary Sue-ish.'

Harry laughed and shook his head, stroking the mirror softly. 'Where did you even get these?' he asked.

'I'd left my mirror in my flat when I went after Pettigrew, so all I had to do was break in and steal it when the Muggles who live there were away. Same with James', I left it there after taking it from Godric's Hollow on _that night_.'

'Godric's Hollow?'

'You don't know?' To Harry's left, Hermione covered her ears as Sirius swore loudly before answering, 'The village where you lived with your parents. I thought someone would have told you.'

Harry mulled it over for a moment before asking, 'Can you take me there?'

Sirius paled rapidly, and Harry began to worry that he would refuse or get angry with him for suggesting it, but then his godfather answered hoarsely, 'Sure, I'll take you there…Um…how about tomorrow? I do need to visit their graves and such…Hermione, you can come, too –'

'Oh, don't worry about me,' said Hermione, who'd been silent until now, even though she clearly wanted to ask loads of questions about the mirrors and the magic used to make them. 'It's a family occasion, I'd only be getting in the way – and I need to study, anyway, so yeah,' she finished, her cheeks colouring slightly.

Sirius only nodded, and Hermione took the ensuing silence as her cue to start asking questions. Harry only shook his head fondly and made his way out of the room, smirking at Sirius, who was looking a tad overwhelmed as Hermione continued to ask question after question faster than he could answer them.

…

The weather was bright and sunny as Sirius and Harry Apparated to Godric's Hollow, a right contrast to their sombre mood. Not that the visit was an unwanted one. Harry was glad they were going, as it would (hopefully) give both him and Sirius closure. Or open old wounds.

He tried to calm his racing heart as they approached the graveyard, the kissing gate squeaking when it was opened. There was no use in being more morbid than the visit already was.

Sirius walked fast, barely glancing at most of the graves, and Harry had a feeling he wanted this visit to be over as soon as possible. He followed his godfather, but took the time to look at the names and dates.

He'd passed quite a few graves with names he recognised from school and was staring at one with a weird triangle symbol when Sirius gasped.

Harry looked at his form, a ways off from him, and knew instantly that he'd found them.

He hurried towards where Sirius was standing, staring down at two gravestones. He looked down as well, reading;

_James Potter_

_27th March 1960 – 31st October 1981_

_Lily Potter nee Evans_

_30th January 1960 – 31st October 1981_

Sirius cleared his throat and said tightly, 'I never thought I'd see them – you know – like this.'

Harry nodded and said, 'Yeah. Listening to your stories of them…It seems almost unbelievable that people like that could die.'

Sirius just nodded, crouched down and touched the gravestones. Harry got the impression that he was saying everything he wanted to say in his head. And that was just fine. He didn't think he could bear hearing his godfather apologise to his parents for something he wasn't in any way to blame for.

He looked at the gravestone again. Underneath those two pieces of stone were his parents…or the remnants of them, at any rate.

In any case, under that stone and about six feet of soil were the two people that had died to save him. Two people that had loved him more than life itself.

Harry's throat felt tight. What if they had lived? So many things would have been different. Sirius wouldn't have gone to Azkaban. He wouldn't have spent more than a decade being abused by his relatives (and he used the term loosely).

Or he would have died, and then they'd have been miserable, because Harry knew that for a parent, losing their child was the worst thing they could possibly encounter.

There was no way out of it, then. Either they were dead, or they were alive and miserable, and Voldemort – he would have lived then as well. Maybe they would have been killed later on, anyway. Maybe…There were so many what-ifs and maybes.

The realisation that his parents had had to die hurt. A lot. Harry felt his sight blur and wondered for a moment if he'd lost his glasses. Then he realised he was crying. He tried to wipe the tears away, but they just continued on falling, so he gave up and just pressed his lips together to keep himself from making a noise.

Eventually, the tears subsided, just as Sirius got up and shook his head, muttering, 'I can't be here anymore. Come on. Let's go.' Harry startled and wiped his face hastily as his godfather conjured a bouquet of flowers and laid them at the grave. Harry didn't know much about flowers and their meanings, but lilies were a very apt choice, he reflected as they made their way out of the graveyard and back to the centre of the village.

Harry gripped Sirius' arm, and they were about to leave, when he spotted a black mass at the end of the village. 'That's it, then?' he asked, trepidation in his voice.

Sirius froze and paled before answering quietly, 'Harry, please, let's just go. I can't bear to see it a second time.'

Harry looked at him for a moment, then said, 'Then don't.'

He made to walk away, overcome with curiosity, but Sirius' anguished whisper stopped him, 'Harry, please.'

Harry looked at Sirius, then at the dilapidated house, then back at Sirius again. Deciding that his godfather was more important than his curiosity, he gripped his arm again and looked down, muttering, 'Sorry,' and asking himself, _Did I really want to see it?_

Sirius Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place and immediately secluded himself in his room. Harry let him be alone and went to his room instead.

After a few minutes of sitting on his bed and staring out the window, pondering the recent visit, Harry heard Hermione come in, no doubt having heard them return.

'How did it go?'

Harry shrugged. 'Fine, I guess.'

Hermione must have caught his worried look to the ceiling, because she said, 'He'll be all right, Harry,' though without any real conviction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: blood.

'I'm going to miss you,' Harry confessed as he, Sirius and Hermione stood on the platform.

'I'll miss you, too,' Sirius replied. He was smiling, but there was a definite sad note to his voice. He sighed and embraced Harry in an awkward hug, clearly trying to keep his distance as much as possible. He pulled back quickly and said, 'Well, this is it, then. Stay safe, have fun, and yeah,' he finished lamely, 'be fine.'

'I will. You stay safe, too, and don't let them,' Harry motioned at the crowd, most of whom were giving Sirius a wide berth, 'get you down.' _And don't let the other problems get you down, too,_ he added mentally, thinking of the overheard conversation on his second day in Grimmauld Place.

Sirius only nodded. Harry glanced at his godfather one last time, then followed Hermione, who had already said her goodbyes, down the platform. He would have liked to wait for the Weasleys, but knowing them, they'd arrive at around five to eleven, and all the compartments would likely be full by then, so he and Hermione boarded the train. Harry made to go down the end of the train, but stopped a moment later when he realised that Hermione was not following. He made a vague gesture with his hand and said, 'So, shall we?'

But Hermione suddenly looked uncomfortable.

'Harry,' she said awkwardly, 'I'm sorry, but prefects have to go to the prefect carriage, and –'

'Oh,' said Harry in a small voice. 'Sure. Sure. I'll save seats for you and Ron.'

'Look, I wish I didn't have to, but –'

'It's fine, go on.'

He watched Hermione send him one last apologetic look and set off and turned around and started walking to the end of the train, hoping that the compartment he and his friends usually sat in would be free.

Luckily for him, it was, and he put away his trunk and Hedwig's cage and sat down, looking around as he tried to figure out what to do. He hadn't realised before, but it was incredibly boring without Ron and Hermione there. He decided to read a book to (hopefully) pass the time until his friends got back. He stood up and opened his trunk, not bothering to get it down from the overhead racks, as he searched for a book he hadn't yet read.

'Harry?'

Harry let go of his trunk to look properly at whoever had said his name and gasped when a book fell out of it and hit him on the head.

'Ow!'

He bent down to pick it up and sucked in a breath when his hand touched another, feminine one. He looked up and locked gazes with Cho Chang, who looked just as pretty as ever.

'Hi, Harry,' said Cho, and maybe it was Harry's imagination, but she sounded slightly out of breath. He focused on her face, which was thinner than it had been before the start of the holidays, an uncomfortable reminder of the events of the end of his fourth year. Her black hair framed it just as prettily as ever, though, and it seemed she had done something to it, because it was longer than Harry remembered it being.

'Er, Harry?'

Harry realised he was staring at her and felt his face grow hot. He stood up and tried to hide his blush by turning around to put the book back into his trunk, asking as he did so, 'So – er – what brings you here?'

He cursed himself immediately for asking such a stupid question. Cho laughed and answered, 'Just wanted to say hi. So, um, how have you been?'

Harry grinned and answered, 'Amazing. Ever since Sirius got exonerated, life's gotten much better. He took me to a cinema a few days back, actually.'

'A...see-ne-ma?' asked Cho, frowning. 'What's that?'

'It's – well – you know what a movie is, right?'

'Heard of it. It's like a play, but on a kind of wall, right?'

Harry nodded, 'Well, a cinema is a place where many people can pay to watch movies on a bigger wall than the one they may have at home. It's pronounced cinema, by the way. C-I-N-E-M-A.'

'All right, then, I'm glad you had fun,' said Cho, laughing as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Harry asked, 'So, what about you? How've you been?'

He realised his mistake immediately and backtracked, 'I mean – of course, you – I'm sorry – I should have realised –'

But Cho's eyes were filling with tears, and Harry felt his neck and ears heating up as he stared at her, trying desperately to come up with something to say.

'I – er – I'm –'

He patted her awkwardly on the back. Cho let out a sniffle and choked out, 'It's just – so _hard_ – one minute he was there, and the next –'

'Cho?'

A curly-haired witch whom Harry vaguely remembered as being Cho's best friend was standing in the doorframe of his compartment. Her gaze zeroed in on him and her scowl deepened when she caught sight of the drops of water on Cho's eyelashes. 'What are you doing here with _him?_ '

So, she was one of those who believed the rubbish the Daily Prophet was spouting. Harry narrowed his eyes and said coldly, 'Cho was just talking to me. That's not a problem, is it?'

The girl walked up to Cho, who looked like she might protest, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the compartment, saying, 'I beg to differ,' as she walked down the carriage and out of sight.

Harry scowled and threw himself back down on his seat, threading a hand through his hair in frustration. Why couldn't he ever have a normal conversation with Cho for more than two minutes? First it was Ron, then this girl...He sighed in frustration and opened the book that had fallen back out of the trunk as soon as he'd put it away, anyway (though, thankfully, not on his head).

...

'Harry!'

Harry perked up and slammed his book shut, grinning when he saw his two best friends squeezing into the compartment.

'So, how was it?'

'Boring,' Ron answered as he put his trunk away and plopped himself down beside Harry, 'completely and utterly boring.'

'Ron!' Hermione admonished as she sat down opposite them. 'It was very – er – educative.'

'Sure, whatever,' said Ron, his grin changing to a scowl. 'Guess who's the Slytherin prefect?'

'Malfoy?'

Hermione nodded, 'And that absolute _cow,_ Parkinson.'

Harry groaned. He could already imagine Malfoy walking around and docking points off Gryffindor first-years for breathing or something equally absurd with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

'Speaking of cows,' said Ron darkly. Harry looked up and scowled when he saw Malfoy standing there, waiting to be noticed. As usual, Malfoy had his two bookends at his sides, and Harry couldn't decide whether they looked constipated or just plain stupid.

'Potter, Weasel and the Mudblood,' said Malfoy with that infuriating smirk on his face.

'Go away, Malfoy,' said Ron, gritting his teeth. Harry would have liked nothing more than for a dementor to suddenly appear behind Malfoy and throttle him, but the blond simply squeezed all the way into the compartment and said, 'Watch your tongue, Weasel.'

'Or what?' asked Harry heatedly.

Malfoy grinned and answered, 'You see, Potter, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect. Which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments –'

'Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git,' Harry interrupted, 'so get out.'

Malfoy's expression contorted, his pale skin reddening, and he said, 'How does it feel, Potter, to be second-best to your pathetic idiot of a friend?'

'Better than it feels to be you, I bet,' said Harry, and, before Malfoy could retort, stood up and pushed him out of the compartment, locking the door behind him. A crash from the other side meant that Malfoy had crashed into his sidekicks, and Harry grinned vindictively as he sat back down.

'You shouldn't have done that to Malfoy, Harry,' said Hermione. 'He could make your life difficult.'

'Puh-lease. Like he could do anything to _me_ ,' scoffed Harry, then added darkly, 'Not sure about the others though. You just know that he's going to abuse his power as much as possible.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, then brightened, 'I can't wait to get his mates for something, though. I'll make Goyle write lines – yeah, it'll kill him, he hates writing,' he scrunched up his face and started writing in the air with an imaginary quill, grunting, ' _I...must...not...look...like...a...baboon's...backside..._ '

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

Later, Harry wanted to tell Ron everything, but eventually decided against it – after all, how easy would it be to be overheard on the train?

...

The Sorting Feast was amazing, as usual, and three helpings of treacle tart later, Harry's stomach felt uncomfortably tight. He mostly zoned out during Dumbledore's speech, but snapped back to reality as Dumbledore announced this year's changes in staff.

'...We are all very pleased to welcome Professor Umbridge to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, as well as welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking over Care of Magical Creatures for our very own Hagrid while he's away.'

Where was Hagrid? And wasn't that woman –

'Hey, I remember her! She was at my trial!' whispered Harry so that only Ron and Hermione could hear him.

'Really?' asked Hermione. 'What's she like?'

Harry frowned, 'Not very nice. She was one of those who voted against me.'

'Well, bollocks,' said Ron, groaning, 'there goes a good year of Defence.'

'That's all well and all,' interrupted Hermione to a derisive snort from Ron, 'but where's Hagrid?'

'Sirius mentioned something about him being away, didn't he? I'll have to ask him.'

Harry would have continued the conversation, but then Dumbledore started talking about the Quidditch try-outs, so he shut up and listened attentively.

'...Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the –'

' _Hem hem._ '

The Hall immediately went silent. _Never_ , in all the years anyone had been at Hogwarts, had anyone dared to interrupt the Headmaster. Who did this woman think she was? Whispers started to permeate the silence, but everyone went quiet again when Umbridge stood up, smiling a sickly sweet smile. Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, then nodded and sat down smartly, his smile back on his face.

'Thank you, Headmaster, for these kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me.'

No one was smiling. Harry had a very bad feeling about his favourite subject this year. No one who spoke to teenagers as though they were five-year-olds could be a good teacher.

'I'm sure we'll all be great friends.'

'That's likely,' Fred and George muttered in unison, while Lavender Brown said to her friend, Parvati, 'I'll be friends with her as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,' and the two dissolved in giggles.

Umbridge paid no heed to the clearly not happy, bright and smiling faces of the students before her and continued, 'The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizard of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills...'

Harry yawned. Only a few sentences in, and he was already bored out of his mind. Next to him, Ron rubbed his stomach and muttered, 'I'd rather eat another chicken leg than listen to this nonsense.'

Looking around the Great Hall, Harry saw that barely any students were paying any attention. Naturally, Hermione was part of those few who were. Across from them, the twins were whispering together, bent over a piece of parchment. Harry scowled when he saw that Malfoy and his ilk were smiling smugly, even if Malfoy's eyes were glazed. He had no doubt that Malfoy or his father was somehow in on it.

'...Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.'

'Thank you, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,' said Dumbledore, clapping politely. A few students followed his lead, though the applause was very soft.

'Well,' said Hermione thoughtfully, 'he's certainly right in that it was illuminating.'

'Illuminating?' said Ron, 'What a load of waffle!'

Hermione looked to Harry, but he just shrugged his shoulders helplessly, so she let out a frustrated sigh and said, 'Oh, didn't you listen at all? It means the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.'

...

Harry was still reeling from Hermione's revelation once they were back in the fifth-year boys' dorm, so much, in fact, that he almost forgot to tell Ron.

'Hey, Ron?'

'Yeah?' Ron looked up from where he was unpacking his trunk. 'What is it, Harry?'

In the background, Harry could hear Dean, Seamus and Neville talking about how their summers went. He moved so close to Ron that their noses were almost touching and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, 'I'm ready to tell you. Tonight, at midnight in the common room.'

Ron paled slightly under his freckles. 'Are you sure it's safe?'

Seamus was confessing that his mother didn't want him to go back to Hogwarts.

'Yeah, Sirius taught me some spells to prevent us from being overheard.'

Ron nodded and they parted, just as Seamus said loudly, 'Because of Potter.'

Hearing his name, Harry turned around and asked, 'Because of me what?'

'Me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts. Because of you.'

'What do you mean, because of me?'

'With what the Daily Prophet's been saying about you lately –'

'So she believes that, then, does she?'

Harry couldn't believe it. He'd met Mrs Finnigan at the Quidditch World Cup, and she'd been a very nice woman. To think that she would believe the rubbish the Daily Prophet was spouting...

'Well, you have to admit, it was suspicious when you arrived with Diggory's body in your hands last year, and you haven't told anyone what happened. So what really went on there?'

'Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother,' snapped Harry and started furiously changing into his pyjamas.

'Are you having a go at my mum?'

'Well, if she chooses to believe the rubbish Fudge's spouting –'

'You're mad!' Seamus looked at their dorm mates for support, 'He's barking mad, right?' He then directed his next question at Ron, 'Do you believe what he's saying?

'Yeah, actually, I do!' said Ron, his ears red.

'Then you're mad, too!'

'Yeah?' Ron drew himself up to his full height, which was a head taller than Harry, 'Well, unfortunately for you, I am also a prefect, and if I hear one more –'

Seamus shook his head and disappeared behind his curtains. In the ensuing silence, Ron said, 'Anyone else got a problem with Harry?'

'My parents are Muggles, mate,' said Dean, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, 'they don't know anything about what's going on, and I'm not stupid enough to tell them.'

Ron's gaze moved to Neville.

'My Gran says that if Dumbledore says he's back, then he's back. She's cancelled our subscription to the Prophet because of how inaccurate it is. We believe Harry,' said Neville simply, and Harry felt a surge of appreciation for his dorm-mate. He looked at the other occupants of the dorm and said, 'I think I'm going to turn in.'

His dorm-mates, barring Seamus, wished him good night and Harry climbed into bed, closing the curtains and whispering an anti-eavesdropping charm Sirius had taught him. He picked up his mirror, which he'd thrown on the bed earlier, and said, loudly and clearly, 'Sirius Black.'

A moment passed and Sirius' tired face appeared. Harry noticed that, although it was nearly ten in the evening, his godfather was not wearing pyjamas, and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed yet. Still, Sirius smiled brightly, some of his tiredness disappearing when he saw Harry.

'Hi, Sirius.'

'Hi, Harry. So, how was your first day of school?'

Harry frowned. 'Not that good, actually. Hagrid's gone, a Ministry woman named Umbridge is the Defence Professor, the Ministry is apparently interfering at Hogwarts, and a lot of people believe the Prophet, including Seamus.'

'Seamus is your dorm-mate, right?' At Harry's nod, Sirius said, 'Don't you mind them, Harry. They'll know the truth eventually.'

'I know. I still don't like it,' said Harry, but he let some of the encouragement in Sirius' voice reassure him and the weight in his chest lessened slightly. 'So, what about Hagrid? Where is he?'

'He's – er – it's a mission for the Order,' Sirius scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, 'I'm not technically supposed to tell you.'

'But you will, won't you?' said Harry, looking at Sirius beseechingly.

'I – oh, fine. You know, sometimes, I feel like you're my son, with those puppy eyes you've got. Just, don't tell anyone I told you.'

Harry grinned. 'Sure.'

'Right. Well. Hagrid's gone...' Sirius paused dramatically, '...to Thailand to buy a pink unicorn and fly it all the way to the moon.'

'Sirius!' exclaimed Harry, laughing.

'What?' said Sirius, a look of faux innocence on his face. 'Okay, okay, I'll be _serious_ from now on.'

Harry couldn't quite contain his chuckle. No matter what anyone (namely, Remus) said, that joke never got old.

'Anyway. Hagrid's gone to liaise with the giants.'

'Really? I suppose it would make sense. What are they like, the giants?'

'They're big,' Harry snorted, 'and brutish. Kind of like the Crabbe and Goyle you told me about. They have bloodbaths constantly. It's not easy to get on their good side.'

'Will Hagrid be all right?' asked Harry, worried for his half-giant friend.

'Yeah, of course,' said Sirius, waving a hand, 'Maxime is with him and he's part-giant, so they ought to accept him.'

Harry wasn't so sure (and he suspected Sirius wasn't either), but decided to change the subject and asked, 'So, do you know much about Umbridge?'

Sirius scowled as he answered, 'Umbridge is a high-ranking ministry official, who hates anyone who isn't a pureblood and what she calls "half-breeds" – centaurs, house-elves, werewolves and the like. I'd advise you to be cautious around her. She's a very bad person with a lot of power. She could make your life hell, and you've already given her plenty of reason to do that. So, yeah, keep your head down and don't give her any more reason to hate you.'

'Would you have done so?' asked Harry sceptically, imagining Sirius and his dad staying up late to decorate Umbridge's office with pictures of excrement or something of the like.

After a small pause, Sirius answered, 'Yeah, we probably wouldn't have. We'd have gone all out on her. But I am not you, and I advise you to be better than I was at your age.'

Harry nodded. 'I'll get you the fangs as soon as I can be alone.'

'Good. Good night, Harry.'

''Night, Sirius.'

Harry put the mirror away and went to sleep. His mind still swimming with everything that had happened and everything Sirius had told him, he forgot all about a meeting at midnight and a redheaded boy who couldn't wake him because of the charms he had put on his bed's curtains.

...

'Morning, Ron,' said Harry as he stumbled out of the bathroom.

'Morning, Harry,' said Ron, looking a little put out by something. 'Sleep well?'

'Yeah, why – oh!'

Harry felt his cheeks heating up. 'Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry, I forgot all about –'

'Yeah,' said Ron, looking even more put out. 'I tried to wake you, but the curtains –'

'I put charms on them for – well, I'll tell you later,' said Harry, shooting a glance at their three other dorm-mates, who were just waking up.

'Sure,' said Ron with a hint of bitterness in his voice. 'Later.'

...

Harry couldn't quite control the loathing he felt as he stared at his Potions Professor, who was calling out "P"s and "A"s mercilessly as he graded the Gryffindors' potions. He hated what he was about to do, but he just had to know.

'Er – Professor?'

Having to address Snape politely was something he hated just as much. Snape looked up, his face looking decidedly uglier than the jar of frog insides next to him, and asked, Harry's loathing reflected in his own voice, 'Potter, what do you want?'

'I – er,' Harry looked around to confirm that the last of his classmates had left, then leant in slightly and said, lowering his voice, 'I know it was you who told Voldemort the prophecy.'

Snape dropped the phial he was holding, which rolled off his table and shattered somewhere on the floor, and paled rapidly. Harry backed away quickly as Snape seized his throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. His voice was deathly quiet as he said, 'Detention, Potter, for spouting off nonsense.'

Any sane person would have nodded meekly and made to get away as far and as fast as possible; but then, sanity was overrated, anyway. Harry squirmed in Snape's grasp until he fished his wand out of his pocket and pressed it to his throat as he panted, 'Do...you...regret...it?'

Snape stared at him with the utmost loathing for a moment, and then, using strength Harry hadn't known the man to possess, lifted him by his robe and threw him out of his office, shutting the door behind him. Harry supposed it was only the shock at being asked such a personal question that had stopped him from finishing him off then and there.

Still, Harry had seen the look in his eyes, and it was enough for him to know that he did regret it. Harry would never come to like the man, but the revelation that Snape hadn't meant for his parents to die felt as though a weight that had settled in his stomach was now gone.

...

Harry _hated_ that woman.

He'd tried to hold his temper as best as he could, but he'd lost it when Umbridge stated that she, in essence, thought that his godfather was better off back in prison. She hadn't used those exact words, of course. Harry had no doubt that she was a Slytherin, with how she could be sickeningly polite and unabashedly rude at the same time.

In hindsight, saying that he'd heard a rumour that the Sorting Hat had tried to put her in Azkaban probably wasn't the best idea. Luckily, he'd managed not to say anything about Voldemort's return, so she'd only given him two nights of detention.

Which was where he was headed now. Harry grimaced when he saw the excessive pinkness and the kitten plates that adorned the walls of Umbridge's office. Said grimace turned into an audible groan when he saw the roll of parchment that lay on the desk which was clearly intended for him. Really, as if the class itself couldn't get more boring, with them being made to read a stupid and incorrect book on defence theory (and Umbridge had also stated that they won't be casting a _single_ spell over the course of the school year, something Hermione had said she would work on finding a solution for), now he was going to be made to do lines? And, from what he'd seen of Umbridge so far, she'd keep him there until the wee hours of the next day's morning.

'Good evening, Mr Potter,' said Umbridge and gestured to the seat in front of her. Harry didn't deign to respond as he sat down and bent down to retrieve a quill from his bag.

'Ah – ah – ah,' said Umbridge, wagging a finger at him, 'you'll be using one of mine.'

She then proceeded to hand him a black quill. Harry shrugged and took the quill.

'I want you to write "I must not disrespect authority".'

Harry scowled and said, 'You've not given me any ink.'

'When I give you directions, _Mr Potter_ , I should like you to reply with "Yes, Professor Umbridge". As for ink, well,' her smile turned into, in Harry's opinion, the embodiment of pure evil, 'you won't need it.'

Harry had a bad feeling about this. He was proven right when, as soon as he touched the tip of the quill to parchment, a searing pain erupted in the back of his right hand. As he wrote the first letter, the letter "I" appeared in red on the back of his hand and healed immediately. It occurred to him then that the red "ink" was actually his own blood. He looked up at Umbridge and felt the strongest hate he'd ever felt flare up inside of him.

'Yes, Mr Potter?' she asked with an infuriatingly sweet smile.

Harry was a hair's breadth from telling her everything he thought about her, which would have Mrs Weasley gasping repeatedly at his language, but he just shook his head and went back to his parchment, grimacing as letters carved themselves into the back of his hand.

_I must not disrespect authority_

_I must not disrespect authority_

After about 30 lines, the back of his hand was numb from the pain.

_I must not disrespect authority_

_I must not disrespect authority_

After 50, the cuts stopped healing.

...

After the second detention, Harry's hand was still bleeding when he exited Umbridge's office at half an hour to midnight. He sucked on the cuts to stop the blood flow. His blood left a metallic taste in his mouth. A fleeting thought of telling somebody was instantly squashed down when Harry realised that doing so would mean giving in. And he did not want to give Umbridge the satisfaction.

He scanned the dark corridor with his eyes and nearly jumped when he saw Ron crouching behind a suit of armour, a broom in one hand.

'Ron? What're you doing here?'

"Deer in the headlights" would have been an appropriate expression to describe Ron, whose eyes widened comically as he stepped out from behind the suit of armour and awkwardly moved himself in front of his broom.

'Oh – er – Harry, fancy seeing you here!'

'What are you doing here, Ron? And why do you have your broom with you?'

Ron looked like he was about to answer or continue denying everything, but then his eyebrows moved together into a scowl and he said, 'I'll tell you later.'

Harry thought he could detect a hint of mocking in his voice.

'What do you mean, you'll tell me later?'

'Exactly what I said, Harry,' yes, his voice was definitely mocking now, 'I'll tell you later, just like you'll tell me later.'

'Look, it was an accident, okay?'

'And the charms on your curtains were an accident, too?'

'I had to put the charms because –'

Harry faltered as he realised that the mirrors were another thing he couldn't talk about in the open.

'I'll tell you later,' he finished in a small voice.

'I thought so,' said Ron. 'Bet you and Hermione had loads of fun together, keeping secrets from me –'

'Don't bring Hermione into this! What's so wrong with me and Hermione being friends, anyway?'

Ron reddened, but didn't say anything, and instead pushed past Harry and walked down the Fat Lady's corridor and out of sight.

...

'I confronted Snape yesterday, you know.'

'You did _what_?!'

Harry winced as Sirius' yell attacked his eardrums painfully and repeated, 'I confronted Snape. And he regrets it.'

'Oh, and he told you that, did he?' asked Sirius bitterly.

'No, but I saw it –'

'Oh, don't start with all the cliched "I saw it in his eyes" rubbish. How can a pair of organs show emotions or any of that sappiness? Besides, Snape's the best Occlumens I know. He wouldn't show his emotions so freely.'

'Well, I saw it,' Harry repeated stubbornly, 'and I don't care if you think he lied –'

'Harry, let me explain it to you,' said Sirius slowly, and Harry reluctantly closed his mouth. 'I don't know what heroics you see in Snape's actions, because there are none. He only regrets his actions because Lily died.'

'Well, and how is that –'

'No, Harry, you didn't understand,' said Sirius, raising his voice slightly, 'He regrets it because _Lily_ died. He would have been fine if it had been any other family – heck, he was all for you and James dying, just so he could have his _love_.'

'But surely –'

'The only thing that man cares about is his creepy obsession with my best friend's dead wife,' snapped Sirius, looking decidedly irritable now.

Harry supposed he had a point, but he refused to accept that Dumbledore would keep a man like that out of Azkaban, and even go as far as to employ him at Hogwarts. Despite his recent problems with Dumbledore, he still trusted the man and his judgement – at least enough not to start screaming, 'Death Eater!' in Snape's classes. And now, he supposed he didn't have to suspect Snape anymore, as he doubted he'd join Voldemort again after _that_. Dumbledore's trust in him seemed more reasonable now that Harry knew of the relationship between Snape and his mother.

'Sirius –'

'Harry, how can you justify that man's actions? He's the reason your parents are dead!'

Harry was about to say that he wasn't justifying anything, but caught onto the second sentence and asked hopefully, 'And you don't blame yourself for it anymore?'

'Well, I – er – still do,' Harry felt his heart sink, 'but how is that related to Snape?'

Harry shook his head and said, 'Can we just agree to disagree?'

'Fine,' said Sirius, scowling. 'For the record, let it be known that my faith in your judgement of character has just dropped by, like, a thousand percent.'

Harry just sighed.

...

Any dreams Harry Potter may have had of letting go of his hatred of Snape were crushed in the next evening, when Snape made him scrub cauldrons for five hours straight, lecturing him on the importance of having brains all the while, the slime-ball.

...

Sirius made a face and the man who'd been staring at him for the past half an hour while he was picking out candy (Merlin, there were so many new ones! Of course, Sirius was intent on trying out them all) jumped in fright. He sighed, dropped 2 Galleons and 3 Sickles on the counter and made his way back out on the streets of Diagon Alley, rolling his eyes when those closest to him immediately gave him a wide berth. It happened whenever he went out; people would avoid him while whispering behind their hands and calling him a deranged criminal just loud enough for him to hear.

Granted, just as many were feeling sorry for him, but Sirius didn't know what was worse: being hated or having his entire existence romanticised to hell and back.

He turned around, wondering where to stop next, when he came face-to-face with someone he remembered very well. Receding mousy brown hair, a pale thin face, dirty clothes that gave off the impression of not having been washed in a long time – Amanda Pettigrew certainly didn't look like she'd had an easy fourteen years. Sirius felt a surge of anger at the resemblance to the rat that her features bore, but it was gone in an instant. The mother wasn't to be blamed for the sins of the son, after all, and not every child was the direct product of their upbringing – Sirius knew that only too well.

So, he inclined his head in what he hoped was a polite nod and said, 'Mrs Pettigrew.'

When no answer came, he added jokingly, 'Long time no see?'

Maybe, that wasn't the best way to greet her, Sirius reflected a moment later, when Mrs Pettigrew screamed and lunged at him.

She was very frail and it wouldn't have been so hard to get her off him, but she'd grabbed his wand before he could react, helped by the element of surprise, and he was too busy making sure that his second wand didn't get snapped as well. A moment later, though, his wand got thrown down the street and a woman who'd just arrived and probably thought that Sirius was attacking Amanda, and not the other way around, picked it up and tried to snap it, so Sirius used all of his bodyweight (which wasn't much, as he still hadn't recovered from his starvation period in Azkaban) to throw Mrs Pettigrew off and ran up to the woman, yelling, 'No, no, no, no! Don't snap it! She attacked me – not the other way around!'

Luckily for him, some other bystanders stopped the woman from snapping his wand and explained everything, while others helped restrain Mrs Pettigrew. The latter was still screaming that Sirius had killed her son as Aurors arrived and dragged her away, while Sirius and passerby quickly explained what happened to one of them. He wondered if she had even heard the news of his exoneration. Probably not, as it'd looked like she hadn't gone out in days. Sirius also wondered if Euphemia Potter would have reacted the same way, had she still been alive. After all, he _had_ killed _her_ son.

Finally, the Auror – someone by the name of Elan Burns, so he had to have joined while Sirius was incarcerated – nodded and Disapparated, promising that there would be a trial and that their on-scene testimony would be enough.

The woman, meanwhile, passed Sirius his wand, and it was then that he got a good look at her.

'Andy?'

Andromeda flushed and said, 'Hi, Sirius.'

Sirius felt his face split in a grin. Andromeda had been his favourite cousin, despite her being a Slytherin, and still was. She was the one who had planted the proverbial seed of doubt in him, actually, after she had taken him to Muggle London and demanded to know if he still thought Muggles were filthy and stupid.

'So – er – how've you been?'

...

Two hours and a long conversation later, Sirius returned home, a grin on his face. Talk about the past fourteen years had moved to talk about Dora and the Order, and soon they'd been conversing freely, just like before Sirius' incarceration. Andromeda had extracted a promise to meet up again from him, and Sirius had gone home feeling happy about another relationship he'd treasured being restarted.

His mood worsened somewhat when he entered the gloomy house, and his thoughts immediately went back to his encounter with Mrs Pettigrew. Her reaction really was perfectly understandable. She'd tried to do to him what he'd always wanted to do to the rat.

Sirius deposited the potions ingredients he'd bought on the kitchen table for Kreacher, who had become more bearable ever since Sirius had promised to destroy the locket, to pick up and proceeded up to – you guessed it – the library. As he sat down at his usual table, still pondering the subject of death, he realised that he'd never asked Kreacher how Regulus had died. He'd been afraid, of course, afraid to be told about the last minutes of his brother, but maybe, it was time to get over his fear.

'Kreacher!'

Kreacher appeared with a _pop_ and said, 'Yes, Master?'

Sirius steeled himself for what he was about to do. 'Kreacher, I want you to –,' his voice shook and he cleared his throat, '– to tell me how Regulus died.'

Kreacher's dull eyes filled with tears and the elf fell to his knees and started beating his head against the floor, screaming, 'Master, please! Master...Master...'

To Sirius' surprise, his heart clenched slightly at the display. He shook his head and said loudly, 'Kreacher, stop!'

The elf paused in his head-banging, looking up at Sirius, beads of tears slipping out of his large eyes.

'Kreacher, I order you to tell me how Regulus died.'

The elf immediately burst into tears again and started rocking back and forth. Still, he started talking, 'Master Regulus c-came to Kreacher and s-said that the Dark Lord needed a – a house-elf, and Kreacher was honoured, of course, how could he n-not? And Kreacher went to the D-Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord t-took Kreacher to a cave, where the Dark Lord made Kreacher drink nasty p-potion. It made Kreacher see things – t-terrible things.'

Here, Kreacher burst into tears again, and it took a Draught of Peace to get him to calm down enough to continue. The pit of dread in Sirius' stomach was growing larger with each word Kreacher spoke.

'And then th-the D-Dark Lord put a locket and filled it with n-new potion and left, but Kreacher had order from M-Master Regulus to come b-back, so Kreacher c-came back. Master Regulus d-didn't like it, and Master Regulus was g-growing s-sadder w-with each d-day, and then – then, one d-day, he t-told Kreacher that he would be going to – to n-nasty place, and Kreacher couldn't t-tell family.'

Kreacher's stuttering was increasing progressively, and Sirius was growing more horrified by the second.

'A-And M-Master R-Regulus went t-to n-n-nasty place a-and t-told Kreacher t-to d-destroy locket and d-drank n-nasty potion, and M-Master R-Regulus screamed a-and screamed. AND THEN,' screamed Kreacher, now bawling hystericaly, 'THEN M-MASTER REGULUS F-FELL INTO W-WATER A-AND INFERUISES D-DRAGGED HIM D-D-DOWN. And Kreacher w-wanted to save h-him, b-but Master Regulus h-had t-told Kreacher t-to g-go h-home a-and d-destroy the locket, b-but nothing Kreacher did destroyed it, and...'

Sirius ignored Kreacher's continued ramblings and promptly stood up and rammed his forearms into the nearest shelf. Books rained down on him, but it didn't matter, because Regulus, little baby _Regulus_ , had died a hero, and he, Sirius, had done nothing to prevent it.

...

Harry didn't need to attend the Quidditch tryouts, strictly speaking, but Ron was trying out for Keeper and he wanted to cheer him on.

He and Ron had made up the next day after their fight. Ron had told Harry about wanting to try out, while Harry had told him that he had a device that enabled him to talk to Sirius, hence, the anti-eavesdropping charms. That was as much as he'd been able to tell him, because they hadn't been sure that the other boys were sleeping. He'd promised to say more whenever they had the chance.

Besides, the stands provided an amazing view of Cho Chang, who'd come along with the rest of the Ravenclaw Team to watch Gryffindor's tryouts. Harry waved at her and she waved back, smirking, to which Harry shook his head and yelled, 'No spying will help you!' across the field.

Harry cheered as Ron made another save. He was doing fairly well, and only Viktoria Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper could match him so far. Beside Harry, Hermione scowled and turned away determinedly. She and Ron had had another fight yesterday – about studies, if Harry recalled correctly, because Merlin, it was incredibly easy to lose track with how often they fought – and she hadn't spoken to him since.

Apparently, Ron noticed that, because he missed his next shot completely. And it only went downhill from there. Harry cringed as Ron missed shot after shot, choosing instead to glare at Hermione. His nerves weren't helping the matter, either.

Eventually, Angelina called everyone down and, after about five minutes of careful decision-making, began to read out the results. Harry leaned in once she got to the Keeper spot (everyone else retained their old positions, including Harry).

'...Keeper – Geoffrey Hooper!'

Harry groaned.

...

Harry grinned as he saw the twins selling Pig Paste. A third-year and a cluster of fourth-years were all oinking and occasionally spitting out pigs. He made a mental note to tell Sirius during their nightly mirror calls.

His grin disappeared when he saw Ron sulking on a nearby sofa. He tried to share a glance with Hermione, but she looked away determinedly. Still, she followed him when he approached Ron and said, 'Mate, condolences.'

Ron looked up and mumbled, 'Yeah.' His eyes moved from Harry to Hermione and his features twisted as he bit out, 'Not that I should expect anything from _you_.'

' _Excuse me_?' said Hermione, looking affronted.

'Excuse you! Just get out of here!'

'What? I've a right to be here! I'm a Gryffindor, in case you couldn't tell!'

'No, you're not!'

'What? Why, you –'

Harry let his best friends' yells wash over him as he slowly sneaked away up to the dorms. He wished they'd stop fighting, but with the new heavier course load, Umbridge being made High Inquisitor and Ron and Hermione having the most incompatible personalities he'd ever seen, he knew that a wish was all it was.

...

Sirius' hands shook with excitement as he said Harry's name into the mirror, his voice giddy with anticipation. Every inch of him was itching to go back to the library and continue planning, but he couldn't wait to tell Harry what he'd just found out.

'Sirius? Why're you calling now?'

Harry's tired face appeared in the mirror. Sadly, tired seemed to be a perpetual state for both Harry and Sirius lately.

'Harry, you won't _believe_ the breakthrough I just made.'

All signs of fatigue disappeared from Harry's face instantly.

'What breakthrough? Is it about –,' Harry lowered his voice, '– about You-Know-What?'

Sirius nodded eagerly, 'Voldemort used Regulus' elf, and he gave the diary to Malfoy, which we know now is an H. It would stand to reason that he gave one to another of his inner circle. Who is rumoured to be his right-hand follower? That's right, Bellatrix Lestrange. Well, knowing Bella –'

'"Knowing"? How do you know Bellatrix?' Harry interrupted, 'And why are you calling her "Bella"?'

'She's my cousin. Anyway –'

'She's your _cousin_? Why didn't you ever tell me?'

'Does it matter if she's my cousin?' Sirius snapped, rueing the day he was born into the Black family. 'We're not family, as far as I'm concerned. _She's_ certainly not my family.'

Harry only nodded and gestured at Sirius to continue, for which Sirius was thankful. He hated it when people reminded him of his relation to _that bitch_.

'Well, anyway, knowing Bella, she'd hide it in her Gringotts vault. She was always proud of having enough money to have a personal vault, and she kept rubbing it in my face by hiding everything she owned in it.'

'So you mean...No way,' said Harry, 'No way am I letting you break into Gringotts. Have you _seen_ the weapons those goblins have?'

Sirius imagined himself speared on a skewer and almost laughed. 'Harry, Gringotts isn't the place I'm going to be breaking into.'

'You mean...' Harry's eyes widened, 'So you are going to break into somewhere!'

Sirius nodded, 'Lestrange Manor. It's a tradition in the pure-blood circles to have a spare key in case you're imprisoned while your main key is on you. I even know where exactly she would have hidden it. Pure-bloods aren't known for their imagination.'

Harry was silent for a moment, and then his face split into a grin and he said, 'What have you planned so far?'

...

'Harry, _go_ ,' Hermione whispered while shooting furtive glances at a pair of shelves which a group of Ravenclaws had disappeared behind a few seconds ago.

'No,' Harry whispered back, and sure enough, a moment later, the Ravenclaws emerged again and took the table across from them. Hermione groaned and whispered furiously, 'Now, you're never going to get away!'

'Hermione, relax. I don't have to do it right now.'

It had taken them two weeks to get some time away from everyone else, but they'd finally managed when Ron, who'd taken his failure to get on the team as a personal insult, had decided to go and train on the field again. Harry had refused to train with him this time, citing a detention from Umbridge; Hermione hadn't even needed an excuse. And now, Harry could finally go and get Sirius some basilisk fangs.

Hermione sighed and said, slightly louder, 'I hate that Umbridge isn't letting us actually practice any spells. How on earth are we going to pass our O.W.L.s like that?'

Murmurs of assent were heard from the next table, much to Harry's amusement. It seemed that hating Umbridge was one thing everybody agreed on – well, except for Malfoy, but the ponce didn't count.

'No idea,' said Harry. 'Maybe we could just practice ourselves? You know, self-study and all that?'

'You know, Harry, that's actually a pretty good idea,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'But not everyone is as suited for self-study as others...If we just had a teacher – got it!'

'Got what?' asked Harry, a little scared of the glint in Hermione's eyes. And why was she smirking like that?

'You can be the teacher, Harry!'

Harry quickly cast a few anti-eavesdropping charms and exclaimed, ' _Me_? Are you crazy? I can't teach anyone – I'm not even that good –'

'Oh, but you are, Harry,' said Hermione, giggling, 'You're amazing at it.'

'No, I'm not! And stop laughing at me! And besides, what do you think Umbridge will do when she finds out?'

Not waiting for an answer, Harry got up and searched for a Charms book on the nearby shelf. Part of the pretence was actually doing their homework. To his dismay, Hermione got up as well, walked up to him and whispered, 'Come on, Harry. What can Umbridge do? It's not as if study groups are banned or anything.'

'You've seen what she's doing! She's abusing her power, just look at the Degrees! I don't want her to find a reason to expel you. I can't lose you, and not just because you help me with my homework.'

Hermione laughed, though she was also blushing slightly. She considered him for a moment, and then said, 'You know, I love you.'

Harry's breath hitched. Hermione liked him _like that_? He'd only ever liked her like a sister. How on earth was he supposed to tell her that without hurting her feelings or ruining their friendship permanently?

Hermione suddenly went red and added hastily, 'Like a b –'

But she didn't get to finish, because Ron appeared suddenly from behind a bookshelf. Unable to help himself, Harry groaned. He was _not_ looking forward to the following conversation. He initially hadn't wanted to lie to Ron, and this was exactly why.

'You – you _traitor_!' Ron spluttered.

'Traitor? What do you mean?' asked Harry, confused. Sure, he'd lied to Ron, but he hadn't betrayed him...had he?

'You know what I mean! You – you and her –'

Oh. _Oh_. Harry understood it now. In hindsight, Ron's thing for Hermione had been so obvious, he had no idea how he'd missed it.

Equally as obvious, though, was that Hermione harboured no feelings for Ron at all. That was a bit of a problem.

At the same time, though, Harry was kind of glad that Ron and Hermione weren't ever going to be a thing, because it meant that he wasn't going to be left out while Ron and Hermione did whatever it was couples usually did.

Still, now, he had to reassure Ron that _no_ , he and Hermione weren't a couple.

'Ron, it's not like that. Hermione and I aren't –'

'YES, YOU ARE! SHE SAID SHE LOVES YOU!'

'Oh, would you please just see sense? Hermione and I are _not_ dating!' snapped Harry irritably.

Ron was about to answer something, but then the ever-furious Pince descended on them, demanding that they leave the library unless they wanted to be banned for the rest of their lives. Under her watchful eye, Harry and Hermione quickly gathered their stuff and left, Harry thinking with no small amount of cynicism that at least they now had an excuse for leaving the library, which had been their excuse for leaving the common room.

When they walked out of the library and into the corridor, Ron was already turning the nearest corner, his ears red. Harry sighed and turned to look at Hermione, who immediately blurted out, blushing, 'I meant that I love you like a brother.'

Harry nodded, relieved, and replied, 'I love you, too. Like a sister.' On an impulse, he added, 'I'll do it.'

'You will?' Hermione asked, surprised.

'Yeah,' said Harry, even though he really had no idea why he was agreeing to this scheme of Hermione's.

Hermione bit her lip and said, 'I'll go work out the details, then.'

Harry nodded and replied, 'Just as well, 'cause I have to go do code B.'

That was their code for Harry getting the basilisk fangs for Sirius. Harry watched Hermione leave, then turned around and set off for the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

...

The basilisk hadn't been a pretty sight, and Harry had been forced to swallow back bile as he bent down and retrieved the fangs, dragon-hide gloves on his hands to prevent venom from touching his skin, but generally the visit to the Chamber of Secrets had gone well. Harry hadn't even needed to carry the fangs out of the Chamber, as he'd simply given the leather bag to Kreacher to take to Sirius (students weren't actually supposed to call their own house-elves while at Hogwarts, but they'd been in the Chamber, so no one would find out).

He stopped in his tracks when he entered the dorm and came face-to-face with Ron, who immediately glared at him and the rest of the boys, who were staring at the two friends, likely wondering what had happened.

'We're not together, I swear,' said Harry, pleading silently for Ron to believe him. Was this how he and his first and best friend were going to fall apart, because of love and jealousy? It was like Sirius had once said, romantic love was nothing next to friendship.

'Then why would you lie to me?' asked Ron, and Harry thought he could detect a hint of betrayal beneath the fury. 'You just wanted to get rid of me!'

'No, Ron, it's not like that, I swear – you know how I feel about Cho! Why would I go on and just – Hermione –'

'She said she loves you!'

'Like a brother! You just didn't hear the full conversation. Do you want me to tell you?'

Ron was silent for a moment, then said, his expression unreadable, 'Go on.'

Harry motioned Ron into the bathroom and put up anti-eavesdropping charms, hiding a smirk when he heard three boys scrambling away from the door, making noises of disappointment.

...

Sirius drew up his hand and stabbed the locket. Slightly behind him, Kreacher, who was there as a back-up in case anything went wrong, jumped away in fright. In this instance, however, Sirius couldn't blame him. He'd hoped that the Horcrux would just die peacefully, but his hope was clearly in vain.

' _You killed James and Lily...You killed them...They hate you...Harry hates you..._ '

_Well, if that isn't my depression personified_ , Sirius thought sardonically as he gazed at the dark, smoky shadow in front of him, which had formed into the bodies of his best friends.

Perhaps that would have garnered a stronger reaction out of him if they had looked anything like his friends; but Volde-James' smirk was nothing like the one James had always had and Volde-Lily's eyes weren't sparkling with mirth, but hate. Even in his dreams, James and Lily always showed some kind of emotion, be it anger or betrayal; the James and Lily in front of him were nothing but emotionless husks.

As it was, Sirius couldn't help but take a step back.

_'You are nothing...You are useless...Harry wanted to live with you because of the Dursleys' abuse, but you aren't that much better, are you?...All you do is waste your time in the library and get drunk every now and then...You get so drunk you get violent with Harry and then wake up the next morning and don't remember it at all..._ '

Wait, what? Sirius felt a surge of ice run through his body, and suddenly he felt weak at the knees. Becoming like his parents and the Dursleys was one of his worst fears, and if he truly was...if he did...

The locket seemed to feel his distress, because it used the opportunity to turn back into a smoky shadow and zoom right at Sirius, passing straight through his chest and leaving him feeling hopelessly empty, before dissolving into wisps and tendrils of smoke, which eventually disappeared as well, leaving the broken locket and the sweat on Sirius' forehead as the only reminders of its presence in the ritual room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius breathed in and out, wiped his forehead with his sleeve and picked up the locket, barely resisting the urge to fling it across the room. Without the vile Horcrux in it, the locket looked somehow small and weak, despite having been the locket of Salazar Slytherin himself.

'Kreacher!'

Kreacher, who had been curled up in a nearby corner, scrambled to get to Sirius and said, 'Yes, Master?'

'Take this,' Sirius thrust the locket at him, 'and get it as far away from my house as possible.'

Kreacher took the locket and, to Sirius' surprise, bowed low and said, 'Thank you, Master.'

Without further ado, he snapped his fingers and popped out of sight.

Sirius leant against the wall and slid to the floor. He put his head in his hands, leant his forehead on his knees and stared through his fingers at his legs. If he had to describe the state he was in, he'd call it hollow. That was how he was feeling, hollow.

He pulled his mirror out of his pocket and hesitated, then berated himself for being such a coward and said resolutely, 'Harry Potter.'

Before Harry could get a word in, Sirius blurted out, 'Why didn't you tell me about what I do when I'm drunk?'

Harry's face was the epitome of confusion. 'What do you mean, Sirius? You don't get drunk all that often, and I've only ever seen you when you found out about the Dursleys.'

'I – er – destroyed the locket, and it – er – said that I beat you when I'm drunk, and –'

'Heavens, no!' exclaimed Harry, looking truly astonished. 'The idea itself – just – why would you believe a word that comes out of Voldemort's mouth?'

Sirius could have cried in relief. Still, he resolved to never get drunk again. Just in case.

...

Sirius held his breath as he sneaked past the first set of wards on the Lestrange property. He'd had a large and complicated plan on getting past all of the wards ready before Harry had pointed out that, according to Sirius' own research, which he'd shared with him, the Lestranges didn't have an Anti-Animagus Ward, and all of the other wards didn't apply to an Animagus when in their animal form. Sirius still wondered at their sloppiness in defending their property, but reasoned that the Lestrange brothers were known for their arrogance and not for their brains.

In any case, ward after ward was letting him pass calmly, so the point was mute. Sirius padded to the house softly, stood up on his hind legs and pushed the door open softly. Time had done a number on the house, he reflected as he walked past another smashed window. Or maybe someone had wanted revenge after Voldemort's downfall and the Lestranges' imprisonment.

As planned, Sirius walked the rest of the way to the study, where he knew the key would be hidden, in his dog form, even though he had not noticed any other wards yesterday, when he'd last been there. Once there, he counted floorboards until he reached the right one and pressed his paw to the barely visible crest carved on it, not even wincing when a needle suddenly appeared and pricked it before disappearing again. He held his breath for a moment and sighed in relief when the floorboard shook and slid out of the way, revealing a pillow, upon which rested a golden key. The Blacks and Lestranges had been allies for a few centuries, so it made sense for Black blood to be keyed into the wards.

Sirius transformed back into a human and reached out, jumping when the alarms suddenly started blaring. Since when was there an area ward on the manor? Sirius cursed himself for not thinking to check the wards again before breaking in. He quickly grabbed the key, wincing when it burned his flesh, and bolted, not bothering to turn back into a dog, lest he meet the Death Eaters; for Sirius knew that somehow, they'd been tipped off. How exactly, though, was a mystery to him. The only time he'd ever talked of the plan was with Harry, and his house was under a Fidelius, which meant that something had gone wrong on Harry's end. It chilled Sirius to know that Harry had been in close proximity to a Death Eater, even if he hadn't been harmed.

' _Avada Kedavra_!'

Sirius paused to let the spell fly past him, then skidded around the corner and shot back a Killing Curse of his own; he knew that Dumbledore would likely _disapprove_ , but he really didn't care.

The three Death Eaters which were standing there side by side scrambled to get away from it and two of them tripped over each other and fell. Sirius laughed and sent curse after curse, Stunners being the Lightest of them all. His first real battle in fourteen years caused adrenaline to run through his body, and he involuntarily let out a cackle as one of his Stunners hit the slowest of the bunch.

' _Capillum praefoco_!'

Another of the Death Eaters gasped as his hair grew and began choking him, falling eventually as he tried to dispel the curse. _Good luck countering the_ amazing _Black family magic_ , thought Sirius, turning his wand on the third Death Eater as he tried to come up with a good curse to finish him off; but before he could do so, a voice behind him cried out, ' _Incendio_!'

Sirius only had enough time to turn around and watch the flames soar towards him.


End file.
